Storm Born
by MastersofNight
Summary: Another sharp snap, the actinic glare paints my eyes with blue light even though they are closed. I hear her voice. My wife of the lightning has been born. Rated for violence and mild profanity. Reviews Please
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, claim to have created, or live next door to the characters created by Mary W. Shelley. She created the classic from which I borrow these characters and embellish with my own.

Rated for Violence and Mature subject mater. The story is told from the POV of the three main characters:

Victor Frankenstein

The Demon, his first creation

Therese, the mate

* * *

_Prelude: Father Basilone_

I sat waiting for the old woman to take a sip of her tea. Her hair is a confusion of grey and honey colored locks turned dull with the body's age. She smiles slightly, as if her life has a great secret.

And it does, for the woman in front of me has actually died and been brought back to life.

I have traversed most of Europe and the Balkans, gathering the myths and legends that have enthralled and terrified the listeners of these stories for most of my life. And she has been my latest discovery. She is a living witness to a story which has seeped its way into folk tale to become the legend named for the man who was its creator. Frankenstein.

* * *

_Therese _

Burning. I am burning. The air sears my throat and lungs. I struggle to move, but something holds me down. Sounds assault my ears, I wince, tears leak from the corners of my eyes. They drip onto something and sizzle. I open my mouth to scream.

_The Demon_

I wait in the shadows. Victor moves around the table. His assistant Curt shuffles along the wall, reading off numbers and shouting above the crackle of the thunder as it resonates between the two huge copper spheres suspended above the table.

Another sharp snap, the actinic glare paints my eyes with blue light even though they are closed. I open them, but am flash blinded. I must wait and listen. Finally, the sound begins to drone into a low hum.

I hear her voice. My wife of the lightning has been born.

_Victor_

I tell Curt to release the straps. He does so, gingerly for the metal is still hot. We back away and let her lay for a moment. She moves a leg, an arm. He head rolls and I hear her again.

I walk to her head and grasp it between my hands, "You must rest for a while. We will turn down the lights, and I will remove the bandages from your eyes." I tell her in a soft voice.

She must learn that voice. My every instruction must be obeyed. The security of my wife Elisabeth, our children, depends on no one knowing what I have done. I need her trust, for the Demon is waiting to claim her. If she fails to satisfy her design, then he will take Elisabeth from me.

Curt has been my assistant for these last seven years. We have journeyed through the storms and brought forth five beings. There were failures. The second male did not last long. And the first female, Astrid sustained damage to the brain tissue. The second female Bette died after her birthing. That damned Demon couldn't wait, couldn't leave her to recover with us. He took her out into a rainstorm to a barn. She took sick and died.

I look over at him now. Thrice he has stood, his yellow eyes mirroring the fury of the storm. I promised him a mate. Astrid was too frail, too helpless for him. And she cowers from him. Bette lasted only a week in his presence. His third mate, Therese, now lies on the table in the dim light. I pull away the bandages and her eyes struggle to focus. Mine will be the first she sees.

Remember me little one, my thoughts will her, I am your master. Always.

_The Demon_

He's bending over her. Curt, the little toad is standing watching her chest rise and fall. Yes, Curt. I watch you while you work, your hands always touching them. I watched you kiss Astrid when you though no one was looking. I watched you wrap Bette's body in a shroud after the fever took her. You ran your stubby little fingers over her.

It's almost laughable. Victor calls me the fiend. He throws it in my face that I was born of the flesh of murderers. Yet here under his nose, your perverted little hands desecrate the bodies of the women Victor rebuilds. How fitting that his accomplice in this work prefers the company of the dead to that of the living.

I didn't let you touch this one, Curt. She died to this world at the hands of a man who raped her dying body. She has survived her rebirth. The only hands that will take her are _mine_.

I leave the shadows, moving slowly into the fringes of her vision. Her eyes are clear. Mine have the yellow haze that death etched onto them. Victor hates my eyes. Curt fears me; he never looks into my eyes. But now, as I look down into hers, I see my reflection in the blue irises.

I can feel my heart beating hard inside my chest. My wife, will you be mine? Will you live to grace me with a smile? Or will you cry and shriek like Astrid did. Beautiful, perfect Astrid, the poor simple cow, she revolts me, despite her perfect face and lush body.

I asked for a mate, a woman to share my life with. She must be intelligent or she will not survive as I have learned to. She must know who to stay away from, and when to hide. She must be a capable woman; she must care for animals, and food that we grow. I wanted nothing more than a companion and helpmate at first. And then my body awoke.

I had seen Victor with Elisabeth. My dreams became filled with women: my small head resting on my mother's breast, my hands running over the flesh of a woman, the feeling as we make love, her gasps and her clawing my back in her climax. After the dreams started, I fought to stay awake. I walked, I ran, I climbed to lonely places along the lake and sat with my head in my hands and wept.

No woman would want me. I am ugly. I am like some sad patchwork doll; a large scar covers my chest from my collarbones down to my naval. My face has a scar across it that tugs my lip up at the corner like a permanent sneer. And the eyes, the yellow cast of the film of death covers whatever color Victor had chosen for me.

He did try, my creator. I have white straight teeth, and luxurious thick long hair as dark as the night of the storm that birthed me. I am a large man, tall and well proportioned. My head was not from the same man. Whoever died to give me this intelligence would be appalled at the state he lives in now.

And the rest of me, you ask? Oh yes, Victor made sure I was male. I look down and wonder if he ever thought about the implications of that. He had meant to fashion me as a god. Did he mean for me to copulate with other creations, or was I to go out into the world and find a human woman.

And what if he did? To his chagrin I stumbled from the laboratory fully formed, very male, and hoping to do what all males did. I don't think he really thought out that part of his experiment as well as he should have. I am strong, I am faster than most people of half my size, I have survived minor injuries to heal quickly, and I am far more intelligent than he had planned for.

You can imagine his distaste after he knew that I watched him with Elisabeth, and revealed that he had indeed created a man in every description of the word. I wanted a woman. He railed at me, told me to have a tumble with some serving girl, but I asked him to look into my eyes-those dead eyes-and tell me what woman would willingly spread her thighs to receive my monstrous seed within her.

And so now, my future companion lies staring sightlessly up at the machine above her, the twin orbs that channeled a god given force of nature to stab the bolt of white heat into her brain and heart to snatch her back from the peaceful arms of death.

_Therese_

The girls all giggle and pose for Luther. He is a finely made man, but a bit rude for my tastes. He is too full of himself, too arrogant of his appeal to the women in the village. Instead of talking of accomplishments in his work, he insinuates what a fine lover he is. A man his age should have a farm of his own by now, not be working on another's. I think he is a braggart, but the other girls still sigh and look longingly at him.

I was in the stables, bringing my Father's forgotten lunch to him, when Luther pinned me against the stall as I was leaving. His hands reached to grab my buttocks, and I wiggled free. He is not the first or only man to grope me. It is a game among many to see how far they can go.

I have been smarter than that. Although I am older than the available girls, I seem to draw an unasked for amount of attention from him. I tell him to go away. I have worked the farm beside my Father and taken care of my Mother after her stroke. I fear she will not survive long, and my Father is saddened that I have not married, but I have all the time in the world.

I went into our small barn to put water out for our goat. Luther followed me in. His breath reeks of stale beer as he shoved his hand down my bodice. He yanks away the laces, and the material drops, leaving me bare to his hands. I twist away from him, digging an elbow into his ribs. "Get off me you pig", I screamed. He shoves me down roughly, following, he lays upon me, trapping my legs.

Although I thrash and push him away, he yanks my skirt up as he assaults me with his tongue. He moves over me, pinning my arms and grinds his hips into me telling me he knows that 'I want it." I snort, that is the last thing I want. I thrash some more, and he has a hard time tearing open his pants and holding me down.

Finally, he tumbles out, limp. He is angry now, and slaps me across the mouth. The coppery taste of my own blood startles me. He has always been a ruffian, but he is transforming into an animal before my eyes. My unease causes my breath to come in shallow pants. The fear threatens to choke me. What began as a game, a senseless tumble, is now turning into a struggle in earnest.

He pulls back from me and orders me to make him excited again. "Give him a kiss" he says "and my soldier will make you happy." The last thing on earth I want is that shriveled useless flesh in my mouth. My hand lashes out to strike him, but I only smack his arm. I am getting desperate as he back hands me again, an explosion of stars behind my eyes.

"Get off of me," I gritted out, "I'm not touching you."

I see it in his eyes, the humanity is gone. Anger burns through him, for a second his limp flesh stirs. I realize what it takes to make him hard again, and I turn my head to bury my teeth into his wrist.

"Bitch," he screams at me, and I see him rising again. Soon he'll be hard enough to take me. I work my legs and arms, and toss my head. I stop, trying to shove him off, as he rams his fingers into me. I cry out, because the fear has made me dry. The pain is startling. If he forces himself into me, it will be agony.

He folds his arm down across my face, and I bite into him and won't let go. He rips back, his blood flying in drops in the air to land on my face. I watch as he shifts his weight, pulls something from his belt, and then stabs it underneath my rib cage.

My breath stops in my lungs, my heart beats wildly in my chest, and I feel the icy finger of metal stealing my life. My blood gushes in a hot flood across my belly as he withdraws the knife in a viscous yank. Air leaves my lungs through the hole in my body, the pain is paralyzing.

I am dying as he settles between my legs and starts taking me. The agony between my legs is of no consequence to the realization that my Father will find me like this, my skirts up and my blood dripping down my sides.

I float somewhere above, watching him rape my still warm flesh. There is a pained but saddened look on my face. I feel the darkness gathering around me.

_Victor_

"Leave her; she will be safe here with the bindings on. We'll move her in the evening." I make my voice stern, but truly I know that whatever the Demon wants, he will have. Neither Curt nor I could stop him. "We'll wait for you in the night and you can carry her to her room," I say sounding reasonable.

I can see it in the lines of his body, his tension. His hands want to touch her, but he stops. It was at this point before when Astrid started screaming at him. For all his size and strength he flinched like a scolded child at her rejection. He might have killed us all if I had not slid a mask over her face and started pumping a gas into her to make her sleep.

For a brief moment I had felt pity for him. The confusion that lowered his brow and made him turn away might have saved our lives. He is capable of outbursts of rage which would make the angels tremble. No doubt that is the part of the murderers that made him lurking in his body.

Astrid is beautiful. I created her a man's walking dream of a woman to bed. I did not know that the storm would burn out her intelligence with its fury. She is as simple as a small child. We took her back to the sanitarium and told everyone she was sent there by a rich family after an injury.

After we moved her, I did not see the Demon for several weeks. His dreams broken, he went away to the lake to nurse whatever tattered parts of a soul might still be harbored in that body.


	2. Meetings

**A/N Thanks so much to my reviewers irene, megumisakura, and micaela. I usually update on the weekends, Welcome to Chapter 2….**

"_I expected this reception," said the demon. "All men hate the wretched; how, then, must I be hated, who am miserable beyond all living things!" Frankenstein-Chapter 10._

_The Demon_

I refused to leave. They check my wife once again, and hastily withdraw, leaving to let me bolt the door behind them.

In the sounds of the rain drumming on the roof, I listen for her breathing. It is strange to take comfort from something so small. I daren't get my hopes up yet. She has surpassed Astrid at this point. And I will not hurry her away until I know for certain that she is healthy enough to leave. Victor tells me we still must watch for infections, complications.

He is stalling me, I know. He fears what will happen if this wife of mine rejects me. I promised him a wife for a wife. If he fashions a mate for me, his own Elisabeth would be allowed to live. I have sworn to take my mate and go to the farthest corner of the earth never again be seen by any man.

At first he threatened me, but I left him a reminder of my abilities. While his second man slept like this, I stole in under their noses, and with a quick twist, broke his neck. It served two of my purposes: it changed the course of his work to providing me a woman, and it removed the replacement he had in store for me. No doubt, a less strong and independent version he could parade before colleagues.

She moves her head; I stepped forward to check on her. My hand has a will of its own; I trace her cheek with my knuckles. "Therese," I say gently. Her eyes turn to me. She blinks and I want nothing more than for her to speak, to prove that there is a living person in these wrappings. Her brows knit and she licks her lips.

I go to the table, and retrieve a small cup, bringing water back for her. I gently lift her head, bringing the cup to her lips and let some of the water slide into her mouth. She closes her lips, and a drop pours down her chin. I wipe it with a bit of the end of the gauze that encases her. "Do you want more?" I ask. Her lips move, but no sound comes. I lean down further towards her, but only her breath tickles my ear.

I repeat my ministrations, and finally she seems sated. A small shiver runs through her. I curse Victor and Curt both for leaving her on the cold metal table. I remember how my body heat seeped away as I lay like this my first night. I look around and pull down some material that is used to curtain off an alcove. I settle it over her, tucking it in along the contours of her body to capture the heat.

Her eyes close, and her breathing returns to the gentle intake of breathe as she sleeps. I stand next to the table, my hand holding hers until I can stand no more. Dawn will find me sleeping on the floor next to the table.

_Therese_

I am thirsty again. My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth and my lips feel chapped. So dry, perhaps the fire burned it out of me. I see a roof over me. A face hovers near, I cannot remember this face, but the voice tells me that there will be some discomfort.

The face disappears suddenly, as an arm sweeps in front of it. Standing there now is another man. Dark hair trails around his face, like a long curtain it hides part of his visage from me. He pulls something off of me, and I am cold. A noise comes out of my throat and he leans close to me. I recognize his voice as well. I close my eyes. I float in darkness and pain.

_The Demon_

I stand at the head of the table. Curt removes the bandages from her head. Along either temple trails the wire that Victor has inserted into her brain. He takes several sharp instruments out of a bag and lays them on one of the discarded strips of gauze.

They lift her head and set it down on a block of wood. He starts the incision, and I reach out to cradle her head as he cuts through the surrounding scalp. Her blood runs down to my fingers, it drips on the table. Victor works slowly, and smoothly the coil pulls out with a soft sucking sound.

Her scalp will heal around the singed skin. She will have a headache that will make her feel ill at her stomach for at least three days, lights kept dim around her will help. Her muscles will ache and cramp suddenly for no reason. Victor learned to tie our hands around a piece of wood, or she would have cut through her palms with her own fingernails as I did. Her jaws may be stiff from the force of her muscles clamping downward on the bit that was in her mouth.

She makes no noise as he pulls out the second coil. I relinquish my hold on her grudgingly so that they can cover her scalp. She will be taken across the gardens to Victor's sanitarium. I have agreed to give her to him for three days. At the end of those days, she will come to me.

_Therese_

Arms hold me. Is it you Papa? I am like a child again, small, held close to a warm strong body. My head rests near a shoulder, and I can feel him look down at me, his breathe warm in my hair. I feel the descent as he places me on the bed, he is careful to cradle my head.

My fingers feel the sheets below me. I shiver again. Why am I so cold? A large hand rests on my stomach, the warmth seeps through the material on my body.

The first voice again, "We'll have one of the maids clean her up. She'll take the wrapping off."

The second voice, it sounds angry, "No one touches her."

"You know you can't stay here," the first voice says, "the staff can't see you. Wait in the stable. She'll be looked after. She probably won't even be coherent until tomorrow."

It's all I remember for several days.

_Victor_

She has slept the clock around. At first I worried, but she seems a little more curious of her surroundings today. I am thankful, because my every waking moment I feel the Demon's eyes on the sanitarium. He waits in the loft of the stable, but I can feel his breath on my neck. I tire of this game we engage in.

He promises to leave us in peace, Elisabeth and I. If this girl does not please him, the only peace I may find is death. Knowing my enemy as I do, Curt and I have made plans to deal with his unhappiness.

Another day goes by, and now she is sitting up. She has eaten, and the staff has helped her bathe and dress her hair. I've told them she was found along a road. As of yet, she has not spoken a word.

Making my rounds at the end of the day, I check on her. She is awake and looking out the window. Do you see him, my dear? Does he call to you somehow? I tell her we are going for a short walk. Curt comes in with a wheel chair and we take her to the laboratory I had built out of the old abbey ruins on the property.

_The Demon_

I pace the loft, watching as they move her to the abbey. It is time to meet her now that she is awake. I take one bound and land on the ground. My legs cover the distance quickly, and I watch as Curt pushes the chair through the door. My heart pounds, a lump in my throat. I must not hold too much hope yet.

Coming in, I am at her back. Victor is shining a light into her ears, and then her eyes. He gives her commands and she obeys. Finally he says, "Therese, how old are you?"

She looks at him, but does not speak. On some unseen command, Curt drops something, and it makes a clattering noise. She turns quickly in the direction of the noise. Victor makes an open handed gesture. "She hears, she sees, but she does not speak."

The silence around us is suddenly ominous. I know the two men are afraid for their lives, but I have been diligent in schooling my temper. Victor is the only one capable of creating a mate for me, someone who has known the death and resurrection as I have.

I walk slowly to her side, and look down at her. "Therese, can you speak?" She turns to me and opens her mouth, but nothing comes forth.

"Mute. I did not think she was mute." Victor says.

I wave impatiently, "She isn't mute. Her lips form words, she knows how to speak." I am surprised at my own insight, or is it just my hope?

Victor has stepped aside, watching me. He is rigid with fear. I stand beside her chair and there is a sudden explosion, a force slams into my back, and I feel a pressure in my chest. A spray of blood and bits of my shirt float in the air in front of me.

I spin and back fist Victor, he drops like a stone. Curt stands by the only door, a shotgun in his hands, he fumbles to pull back the trigger on the second barrel. I feel the blood in my lungs bubbling from the damage to my chest. Fool that he is he missed my heart.

Blood courses up my throat, and I spit it from my lips. The searing in my chest threatens to rob me of consciousness, desperate, I shove Curt. His body crumples around my fist as I punch, taking the brunt of the force, but hits the door flinging it open. I step over him and run, clutching my ribs as if my hands can hold my body together.

The guard dogs are barking form the noise of the shotgun; they will be released after me. My shirt is wet with my blood. I tear it off and fling it down. If I make it to the lake, I will rid myself of the clothes, and dogs cannot follow the scent of my blood if I go along the water.

I crawl to one of the caves in the mountains above the lake. It seems like days since the blast tore my back and chest open. I gasp for breathe around the pain that rakes claws of agony through me, blood froths in my mouth. I feel dizzy from the loss of blood, and sad. I do not want to die yet. I want to see my wife. I want to kill Victor.

_Victor_

The fiend has gotten away again. Our ineptitude with the weapon and our resolve to be rid of him without alerting others caused us to make hasty plans to entrap him. He has done me one service; Curt is dead. He was the last witness to the experiments.

Astrid and Therese are the only creatures that remain in my charge. The creature's rejection of Astrid bought me time to forestall his request for a companion. I had built Astrid as I had fashioned the men, from corpses, taking the choicest parts. Although, in her case I did not take the time to rebuild her body as I had the Demon's, enhancing him beyond the limits of God's design for our flesh.

I did bring about one important modification. I removed the organs necessary for her to reproduce. While I worked over her, my mind filled with the thoughts of the soulless children which might come form their union. I began to see my years of sacrifice and indefatigable work had taken a toll on my reasoning. I should have taken his procreative abilities away as well. I never intended for him to be anything beyond an animated example of my genius, a living textbook from which others would understand the level of science I had achieved.

Therese is an altogether different creature. The fiend found her and exhumed her the night her Father and Mother committed her to the earth. Bringing her forthwith, he demanded I resurrect her. Other than the reparation of her wound, and the days spent waiting for the storm, she was untouched. The Demon kept a vigil over her, leaving me no time to reduce her to a barren state. With this in mind, Curt and I could see the implications of the world of men realizing I had let loose the creature with a fecund mate to propagate another race.

I plan to keep both of the women once I destroy the Demon. Therese will be an example of my discoveries. Astrid has other uses. She was designed to satisfy passions, and as such, serves mine.

She doesn't have the presence of mind to tell Elisabeth of our trysts. Although I love Elisabeth, after the birth of our second child, she has been more reserved in bed. The woman who hungrily moved under me, begging for me to take her, is now a cool, compliant body. Our love play went from long hours of rapture, to a boring routine that only serves to make me frustrated.

Astride has become the vessel of my lust. I bring her some trinket to distract her, then start using her for what I intended her for. I spend the last hour of my rounds in the sanitarium savoring the anticipation, I will find my way to her room, and take her, swiftly and thoughtlessly.

At times, I've even found my way back late at night while the staff sleeps. She lies in a pool of silk, and I jerk the covers off of the bed. I kneel over her, opening my robe, and use her once again.

_Therese_

My mind is like a waking dream. Confusing voices and images, lost moments colliding with what is going on around me.

I dreamt last night of a man, his hand brushing my face. His touch so gentle, it brought tears to my eyes. I awoke restless. The room was warm, and the curtains billowed inward. I had kicked the covers off of my legs, and my nightdress was up around my knees. I rolled onto my back, listening for that voice that had spoken my name.

I ran a hand up and down my calf. I have awoken numerous times to a cramp that I must rub to make the muscles release. Victor has given me something to drink which soothes the muscles during the day, but he forgets about the night.

Once I awoke with my hand on my stomach. Just under my ribs, I feel a large scar. It is straight and ends in irregular small lumps. My hand clutches, my breathing quickens, and I remember blood. Is this why I am here?

I lay shuddering, alone, but wanting desperately to feel warm flesh beside me. I fall asleep longing for the voice.

_Victor_

Therese is becoming more animated, although she still refuses to speak. Her knowing eyes follow people. I doubt there is anything that she does not see or understand. I only wonder at why she remains stubbornly mute. She cried out on the table, and as the Demon said, her lips form words.

The staff wonders why no family has come forth to claim her, and I put them off telling them I have sent letters far and wide, which I haven't. She wears some of Elisabeth's cast off gowns, and doesn't mind wearing the clothes of the maids. With that thought in mind, I let her dress as one and have her start making the rounds and taking care of the other patients. She approaches her work cheerfully in her silence.

Three months after her rebirth an acquaintance of mine, Edgar Ragache brings me a new patient. Edgar's cousin, Thomas Wetherden was visiting from England and was injured in a riding accident. Paralyzed, he hopes to regain some of his feeling if not his mobility. Ragache knows that such cases have intrigued me. I take on the boy's case with an eye for a distraction to my problem of Therese.

_Therese_

A new patient has arrived in a wheelchair. He seems pleasant but sad as he sits in the conservatory chatting with Frankenstein. There was an accidental fall from a horse, and now his legs no longer support him.

I had worked the shift for one of the nurses who instructed me it was time for the young man's bath. Taking a basin, and some towels, I knocked softly and entered. He was on the bed, gazing at the window. He has brown hair and eyes, and has a wonderful smile.

I do not speak, but waited for him to turn to me. I smiled and made a motion with my hands indicating the basin. He looked briefly embarrassed but nodded, "It is awfully hot in here. Could you open the window?"

I opened the window and returned to him, drawing down the sheets and began sponging his skin. He started talking to me, staring up at the ceiling. His name was Thomas, and he had been visiting cousins in France when the accident occurred. He continued on, and I drew the sheets lower, nodding as I worked to show him that I wasn't simple, I did listen, I just didn't choose to speak yet.

I feel sadness for him. He cannot yet be thirty years, his family is moneyed, and his whole future was mapped out. A shying horse and a short fall take away everything he had hoped for in his life. He has lost his control of his mobility, and as yet has not experienced any stimulus that would indicate his ability to experience sexual gratifications.

Despite all this, he seems to be adjusting to life here. His cousin Edgar Ragache is a friend of Victor's, and believes that if anyone can precipitate a return to normalcy for Thomas, it is Victor.


	3. Miracle

**A/N** Thank you so much to my reviewers dominike , micaela ,megumisakura, and Irene. Soon, my friends….soon.

"_You, my creator, abhor me: what hope can I gather from your fellow creatures, who owe me nothing? They spurn and hate me."— Chapter 10_

_The Demon_

I am still weak. The damage from the gun blast must have nearly killed me. Since I was reborn to this life, I wondered if death now had to relinquish its grip upon me. I seemed to suffer injuries that humans would not survive. Illness never touches me.

What threatened me was the loneliness. Men who have gazed upon me lift up their hands to bring violence against me. I have no chance of earning a kind gesture or word from humanity. As such, I fail to believe any woman would look upon me with emotions other than horror. Is it the touch of something once dead they fear, or the rage that seethes below the surface of my mind?

My twisted thoughts drive me wild at times, towering rages followed by bouts of forlorn weeping. I am a babe to the emotions that coursed through this man's body. I need the consolation of another being; conversation, laughter, a contact with those of my kind.

I float in and out of an exhausted sleep, sitting at the edge of the cave, staring back towards the sanitarium. Only the thoughts of my wife's dark blue eyes regarding me so solemnly gave me any solace during my long recovery.

I would go back soon. Victor had sealed his fate when he had tried to kill me, but the fate of the woman he made for me is still undecided.

_Victor_

Elisabeth is quite taken with Therese. She asked for her to help when the new child arrives. I have instructed Therese to divide her time between Thomas and my wife. Although she is silent, she and Elisabeth seem to communicate on some level. She plays with the children, distracting them and allowing Elisabeth time to sleep.

There are two people who Therese doesn't care for. One, being Astrid and the other being Edgar Ragache. For both their parts, the sentiment appears to be mutual.

Ragache mistrusts her intentions towards Thomas. The young man likes to have her around, he chats to her, and they play games, and he reads to her when she wheels him around the grounds. Perhaps it is a form of jealousy on Ragache's part. He is never at a loss for the company of handsome women, and Therese has put up barriers to him. How it must gall him that a simple serving girl rebuffs his advances.

I wonder how he would feel if he knew that girl was buried a scant four months ago after her rape and murder. I can perceive his interest in the sciences, but he detests the work that it requires, and throws money to those who strive to do the work instead. Some of his cash has found its way into the sutures, gauze, and wiring that brought Therese back from the dead for her monstrous husband.

She trusts me, and follows my directions. It is imperative more than ever that she sees me as her Master, for the Demon is still out there somewhere. The girl may be my only shield against his awful wrath when he recovers from the gunshot.

_The Demon_

I have stolen some more cloths. Men of my size are hard to find, my forearms always peek beyond the shirt cuffs I wear. Likewise, my trousers are too short, and sometimes tight enough I tear them, and then sew pieces of more material to them to make them comfortable.

I steal what I need. Always food, sometimes supplies like a needle and a knife when I find them. I roam the country around the lake at different times to avoid being seen. When I can, I perform a favor to pay for my thefts. Some farmer finds a stack of split wood, or a sharpened scythe. More than once, I have midwived a struggling cow and saved a calf from death.

Unseen, I am the fox that steals an egg from the hens, the rabbit that takes the turnip. I am some imp from a fairy tale, taking something, and leaving something in return. More than once I have played off superstition to keep from being caught.

_Therese_

The air is taking on the cool cast of fall. The leaves are turning now, and spiders have overwhelmed the building, stringing up new webs every night while we sleep. With the chill night air comes a restlessness in the sanitarium.

Elisabeth is near her time, and fusses constantly as the weight of the child causes her loss of sleep. Victor bearing the brunt of her attacking tongue busies himself elsewhere. Thomas is bored, we have read through nearly a third of Victor's library, and he has taken to sharing a drink with Ragache by the fireplace before he retires. Often, I wheel him back and help him into his nightdress while he sings randy songs, and runs his hands over me.

The fact that Ragache takes some perverse delight in inebriating Thomas to the point of foolishness makes me hate the man. It is as if he hopes that Thomas' behavior towards me will make me turn away from him in disgust. That show of distaste would mortify Thomas, and our relationship would never be the same.

Ragache paces the building, stalking the maids and nurses under Victor's turned aside eyes. I have seen him leaving Astrid's room numerous times. The poor cow doesn't realize all that fawning male attention is only designed to get her legs open for a brief tumble. They turn her head with compliments and shiny baubles. I think it amuses them to turn her child like glee to groans as they use her.

One of the maids said she saw Ragache slap Astrid one night. That does not surprise me. Ragache's cool demeanor and superior airs have nothing to do with his wealth. I believe they are more from his lack of human warmth, and his hedonistic outlook at the people around him. We are all for his use, his jaded amusement.

He visited Thomas yesterday, telling him he would return in a week. I listened quietly, and he came, putting his arm around my waist telling Thomas he would leave him to my gentle care. As he spoke to Thomas, his hand moved upward, his thumb moving slowly over the side of my breast. I am not a large breasted woman, and as he took his hand away, his finger tips trailed near my nipple. Despite my distaste of the man, my body reacted.

He moved to the door, looking pointedly at my bodice in the mirror over the dresser. His eyes tell me he will have me, whether I will it or not. I try to keep my hatred for him from my eyes. I have an unusual flash of a man's face. Fair haired, he is close to me, anger twists his lips, he slaps me hard. I drop my eyes. No doubt Ragache will take this as a sign of shyness.

_The Demon_

There are celebrations in the villages around the lake. Some aristocratic family has whelped another potential monarch. There might be war, and taxes will drain the purses of the common folk, but out new little emperor will be cause for getting drunk for now.

I have been watching the sanitarium. Victor must have some new plan to provide for his protection at the house. Victor is a brilliant man. But like the others of his ilk, he suffers from an Achilles heel which will be his ultimate downfall. His ego. His belief in his own superiority was challenged when I was birthed.

As I have said, the head on my shoulders is not all mine. When I stumbled out of the laboratory, I could barely speak. Not that my wits were addled, rather my lower jaw was from one man, and my skull and upper neck was from the man who surrendered his brain to Victor. It took time for me to learn to walk correctly and speak again. Victor believed me to be a child. I soon was to dash that belief; showing I could read, speak several languages, write, and was capable of higher mathematics.

His realization came too late that although I was fashioned Godlike, my exterior was ugly. I can remember the look upon his face when I first beheld him; the draining color, the disbelieving eyes, his revulsion at the ochre film that obscures my irises. I was scarred and massive, but my eyes set me apart as entirely unnatural.

I changed from child to man before his eyes, and his disgust of me grew. I was perceived as an evil that must be hidden away. I was to be his showcase, the example of his genius. Instead I was an ever present scourge to his pride.

When Elisabeth came back into his life, he dropped his work in Ingoldstadt and moved to take over the sanitarium near Belrive as his Father wished. He turned from a scientist at the forefront of discoveries to a married man who turned to mundane work to provide for a growing family.

I followed; glad to be a league away from the larger city of Geneva, the countryside affords me places to roam unseen. At a loss to find kindness from any man, I followed Victor and submitted myself to the stinging insults he heaped upon me for the sake of contact with another being. And then I observed the change in his life through Elisabeth.

I had seen him hiding with Elisabeth in the conservatory during a party. He pressed her up against a wall, lifting her skirts and nuzzling her neck. They broke apart long enough for him to lift her by the hips, supporting her as she wrapped her legs around him. He slid himself into her and ground into her rhythmically until they both cried out.

From then on, the dreams came. With them, the focus of my idle time centered on my despair of ever having a woman. My frustration at being hidden away mounted. I wanted to go out into the world of men and find my place. I wanted to find that woman from my dreams. I wanted to return to nights of passion and joyous lovemaking. I needed those small strong arms that held me, the lips that placed kisses on my eyelids.

I have waited through the abortive efforts Victor has made to bring to life a mate for me. Now that he has succeeded in bringing Therese back from the dead, he keeps her from me. She lives the mundane life of a servant in the sanitarium. I wonder if he has told her what she is, or if she if being kept in blissful ignorance.

I want to know if she has spoken. Is she truly mute, or was it a result of the lightning? Nature has proven a wily accomplice to Victor's work; granting us the force of life, but scorching Astrid's intellect, and providing the driving storm that sickened Bette.

Victor has made Therese his cat's paw. He pulls me in closer with the lure of my wife. If she his dupe, I will free her. If she is his accomplice, I will kill them both.

_Therese_

I wheel Thomas into the spa room. One of the men lifts him into the large tub of hot water. To keep his legs from losing their musculature, Victor has designed an apparatus of pulleys and weights. We work through the exercises, pulling and pushing. The water provides buoyancy that will not allow his spine to bear the brunt of the work, only the legs. I have donned an apron, and pushed my sleeves up, but I still am splashed with water. Thomas pauses in his conversation, looking at the wet spot over my breasts. "Therese, was I improper the other night towards you?" He asks quietly.

I realize that he remembers some of his drunken stupor. He stroked my hip through my dress, and leaned close into my breasts as I pulled the shirt off of his shoulders. I feel close to Thomas, he never treats me as a servant. I am a companion and kindred soul. The fact that he still feels the needs of a man to touch a woman does not embarrass me. I grasp his chin to look him in the eye, and shake my head no, leaning over to place a kiss on his cheek.

In truth, I too feel the longings of my body. The warmth of a man's body, hands running over me, and the pleasure of him moving inside me have filled my dreams since I have been here. I do not remember my lover, and no husband or family has come forward to claim me. I feel an odd sense of loss for a lover whose face I cannot remember.

I do not care that Thomas touches me. It is not a conquest, but a sharing. We would not go so far as to complete the act even if he were capable, but I do not mind the sharing of what pleasure we can experience.

Thomas suggests we go out to the old Abbey. I look towards the building and wonder why I know what it looks like inside. That there is a large copper covered table in the center of the room, that the floor boards reek of chemicals, and that suspended above the table are two large spheres.

I shake my head at Thomas, and point to the Abbey. "You will check it out, won't you?" he asks. He is anxious to explore beyond his limited world. I in turn am anxious to remove him from Ragache's influence, and to provide him some diversion from the depression which threatens to overcome him. I reply with a nod, 'yes'.

I go to my bed that night, my hand resting near the scar. I think of Ragache and remember the face of the man who did this to me. I can remember pain and fear. I can also remember my life coming to a close.

I look about the room in a panic. I realize that I was dead. How am I here now? Did some one find me? I remember the sharp pain under my ribs and my breathe escaping from the hole. There was no one to help me.

How did I get here? Victor. Did Victor find me? And if he did, how is it that I live again? I sit up in my nightdress, and pull it off over my head. Walking to the small mirror on the dresser, I strike a light to my candle and stand looking at my body.

I look up into my own eyes, afraid that something evil will look back. What do people see when they look at me? God, what has happened to me? Am I an abomination or a miracle?


	4. The Demon

**A/N ** Thank You so much reviewers! I am pleased you find my vision of Frankenstein's story worthy of your attention.

"_I imagined that they would be disgusted, until, by my gentle demeanour and conciliating words, I should first win their favour and afterwards their love." --Chapter 12_

Chapter 4

_Therese_

Thomas and I oiled the wheels of the chair so it will be easier to get out to the old Abbey. Like children we hide away near the conservatory doors until the staff is busy dispensing medicines and meals. We sneak out of the exterior doors.

The dying sun paints the abbey walls red. Our shadows turn from small gnomes to monstrous giants against the wall as we get closer. My breath is coming quicker, for although Thomas helps pull the wheels, I must do the guiding of the chair. We reach the solitary door. It is not locked, only one board crosses over it to bar it, and I give a tentative push, lifting it out of the way.

Thomas giggles like a child. This is the most exhilaration he has had in weeks. I shied from coming here, but Ragache's insistence on getting Thomas drunk every night had put a strain on my working with him. I must give Thomas the spark of life and hope unless I wish to see him lost to Ragache's machinations.

The door swings open, and we work together to get the chair inside. Once in, we pause to catch our breath. With the door closed, the room is dim. Only a pair of windows in the upper story let in the light, dust motes fill the beams that point to the table.

We look at the strange boxes sitting to one side, a rats nest of wiring intertwines several of them. They have faces with numbers on them like clocks. The large copper clad table seems to overwhelm the room. On it rests more strange instruments, wires, leather straps and what looks like a horse's bit tossed in a heap.

Thomas rolls forward, but I stand firm. Something moves along my spine like fingers and I feel the goose flesh rise on my arms. I feel as if the floor were tilting, and step quickly forward to grasp the handle at the back of his chair for support. Like a life line, it grounds me to stand in the present, but my eyes see into the past.

The lightning speeding through the heaven, the sizzling of the wires, the deafening bang as the bolt strikes the bar that separates the two spheres over which the spark winds, slowly dropping to the wires to run down to my skull. The pain is awful; every muscle in my body is commanded to respond to the power that rips through me. My body spasms under the will of the electricity in me, painfully pulling against something that ties me down. Bright light surrounds me, bathes me in a glowing aura of pulsing power that shreds my nerve endings. It stops for a moment, I feel myself dying again. My heart faltering, the beats uneven, my blood slowing to a pause, I sink into blackness again.

The second bolt is a more capable messenger than its previous sibling. I can feel my scalp charring, the smell of my hair burning. Tears leak passed my closed eyes, they drop below me and over the hum of the wires I can hear the sizzle of the moisture. I try to cry out around the metal in my mouth. I want to live. I want to die. I want someone to protect me from the ravening attack of the storm.

"There were two large copper spheres," I hear my voice. Thomas turns, startled.

"Therese," his eyes are large in the dim light, and filled with wonder, "your voice."

"Yes," I reply.

From somewhere above us is a sigh. A stirring in the air of the room tells me that we are not alone. My breathing stops as my ears strain to pick up the sounds around me.

"Therese, what's wrong," Thomas is getting upset for me. He must see something in my expression. "Do you want to go back?" It is a question for both of us. I smile at him, and nod. We turn the chair and close the door on my past.

_The Demon_

I let them leave. I do not wish to reveal myself to the young man. He and Therese are like brother and sister, making the best they can of the austere surroundings of the sanitarium.

I am so glad she has a friend. She smiles also. She never smiled for me, and I feel of wave of hatred for Victor so piercing my teeth grind. He has denied me those small gifts from her. But I have received one gift that Victor has not been privy to yet. Her voice. By the astonishment on the boy's face, no one has heard it but the three of us.

Yes, Therese. There were two large copper spheres to channel the lightning down into the wires. Have you felt the two lumps on your scalp? I will show you tonight when you return to me. I know you felt me here with you. I shall be waiting.

_Therese_

I bring Thomas to my room. We sit quietly and have a drink from a small bottle of schnapps that I took from Victor's study when I went to see Elisabeth. The liquor warms my stomach, and for a moment I see it again. The two spheres, the hissing sounds, the glare that frightens me, the burning, the feeling of being powerless before the lightning.

Thomas asks, "Are you alright, Therese?"

I refill our glasses, and lean close to him to whisper, "Do not tell Victor or Ragache any of this. I will go back to the Abbey tonight. I have to know what happened, Thomas."

"In the Abbey," he asks, "did you see something?"

"Only my past." I promise I will tell him what I find out. I cannot tell him of the flashes of memory I see. Not the glaring light, nor the picture of my body as I die. Someone was in the Abbey with us, someone who will know the truth.

I wait until it is quite late. I get changed for bed and extinguish my candles. Slipping on my shoes, I wrap myself in Elisabeth's old blue velvet robe. The dark material covers me completely as she is taller than me. I tuck my hair under the collar. Arranging my pillows to look like I am in the bed, I climb out of my window.

My steps are quiet in the grass, I move to the Abbey, staying in the shadows of the larger building. Lifting the board again, I go inside into the waiting darkness. My eyes try to adjust, but the night is moonless, and I see very little. I put my hands out in front of me and move them around me; there is nothing in my way. I slowly make my way to where the table waits. I am aware that I am being watched. I can feel eyes boring into me.

I stop and run a hand on the table. Cold, yes cold metal beneath me, arms lift me and hold me close to a strong body, I can remember this. I remember the voice as well. I can feel the hairs on the nape of my neck rise. The feeling of someone moving towards me makes me shiver. Slowly into the darkness, "Who are you?"

"I am the first creation. He gave me no name. He calls me _Demon_." It is a man's voice, deep but gentle.

I can feel the heat from his body, he has moved closer to me in the silence. He finds my hands in the darkness, and lifts each to the sides of my face. Pushing through my hair, he locates the two small bumps on my skull. He knows.

I feel him lift my arms, upward they continue, and then they are moving through hair, and I feel the same lumps on the sides of his skull. "Therese," his voice so soft, my name sounds like a benediction. I wait in the darkness. "We are storm born." I can feel the rumble of his voice in his chest.

"Who gave me my name?"

"Your name is the name you were born with. It was also the name that you carried to your grave."

He is silent now, his hands have slowly moved downward, leaving mine. I move my fingers around the bumps, and then I drop them through the hair until I feel them run over the ridge of a scar. Cupping my hands around the cheeks, they slide to a firm jaw with a dusting of whiskers.

He captures one of my hands and guides it to rest upon his chest. I can feel the steady thud his heart makes. "I carried you from your grave to this table. Victor repaired your wound, and we waited for the storm. Life came back to you on a bolt of lightning from the heavens, Therese. You are to be my wife."

I wonder at what he tells me. I would not have believed it until today, when I remembered the table, and my death. "Did Victor do that to you as well?" I can feel him take a deep breath, his chest rising under my hand.

"Victor created me from the bodies of other men. I was to be his example of his genius. He wanted to be able to cheat death, to reanimate those who had perished."

My mind struggles to understand what he is saying. "Victor is stealing God's power?"

"And for that he may be eternally damned," his voice is rough, "he has provided a body, given life to me, but then turns me out and wishes me dead. He has the skills, but lacks the compassion to deal with me as God would. God gave us life and set us free; Victor gave us life and makes us slaves."

I can feel the suffering in his words. "Why do you stay here, then?"

"I don't. He abandoned me after I was reanimated. I was forced to leave and find a way to survive away from men. I hide in the forest."

I feel a hand brush my cheek. "I cannot live alone, Therese. You cannot know how empty your life is until you are shunned by every being around you. I would do anything if one human were to extend a hand to me." There is a long silence before he continues, "That is why I found you and brought you to Victor. I want another being that was made like me, someone who shares this _other_ form of humanity. Together we shall leave, and find a home away from men."

I know his voice. "You gave me water when I awoke."

"Yes. I stayed and held your hand through the first night." His voice changes, "Beware of Victor. He keeps you from me, thinking he can control me through you. Do not trust in him, Therese. He will not hesitate to turn us against each other."

I feel his hands move again, they sweep up my throat and frame my face, he moves closer and in the darkness, his mouth finds mine. His kiss is almost chaste. "I will be near, wife. I watch over you."

He tilts my chin upward and his lips descend upon mine with an undisguised hunger. This is no mere kiss; it is a ritual of possession. "Victor will be watching, be careful. The time will come when I will take you from this place."

His hands are gone, and I feel a change in the air. There is a faint sound of movement above me. I reach out again in the darkness, and find my way to the door. Quietly I step out, and go back to the sanitarium.

I slip in my window and go to Thomas' room. He is waiting up for me. We lay on his bed like children, our heads together. I tell him everything I remember. As I explain my visitor in the darkness of the Abbey, I find myself uncomfortable with calling him 'Demon' as Victor does.

Thomas suggests we give him a name. If Victor were to hear the name, he would not associate it with his re-animated man. I tell him I will think about it, that when I decide we will use the name.

"Are you sure about this, love? Can we trust this man?"

"My heart tells me yes. Victor has been kind, but I know he lies to the staff about finding out where I came from." I guide his hands to my head, to the bumps left behind. I also pull up my gown high enough to guide his hand under it to my scar.

"Bloody hell, Therese," he breaths. Thoughts pass behind his eyes, pain, sorrow, and fear.

I have the terrible feeling that he will see me as something less than human now. I look away from him. This is how my 'husband' must feel.

"Here now, love, don't be afraid." He pulls me to him in a hug. "You're my best friend, Therese. You're what keeps me sane through all these days of lying on my back and looking for a future." He gives me a kiss on the forehead. "I love you, lass. For that and more. We'll get through this, not to worry, eh?"

We swear to each other to keep this secret from everyone. We both know that my survival may depend upon it.

_The Demon_

I leave the abbey through the upper window. I wait only long enough to see that Therese makes it back to the main building. I move slowly through the trees towards the village. I get close enough to see people milling in the main square.

Victor spends his money on guards and dogs to patrol the grounds. He makes the mistake of trusting his safety to loaded guns. None of these men are adept at hunting another man. I am not an animal, I am another hunter.

I wonder what Victor has told them? Do they look for some deranged man, or an animal? And if one of his men were to bring me down, how will you explain it Victor? What will they think of my dead eyes, and the scars?

I will not allow this to happen. My survival now is all that might keep Therese from becoming a slave to Victor the way Astrid is. I am sure Victor took Astrid in, playing the beneficent Doctor taking sympathy on the infirm. But I know he enjoys her flesh. He created her from his own ideals. The fact that I turned away from her because I have no taste for a child doesn't seem to hamper his sexual attraction towards her.

Indeed, for a learned man, Victor exhibits very poor morals as called for in his deportment with the fairer sex. He tells me to go violate some poor girl to fulfill my body's needs, takes another lover while he has a pregnant wife, and turns poor witless Astrid into his whore.

My blood turns hot, my pulse pumping rage like quicksilver through my veins. You have your women Victor, yet you try to deny me mine. You will not touch Therese; you will not taint her with your prejudices, your pride, and your lies.

We are not your slaves, Victor. Even I, the piecemeal puppet you created, was brought forth a complete man at one time bearing a soul. If that soul was lost at our deaths, then why does God intervene with the unpredictability of the storms? Do we not still complete a course of his intentions rather than yours?

You live now because your actions have intertwined our fates. I could not function without a human contact, and you neither had the courage nor the foresight to rid yourself of me while I was still defenseless. As time matured me from the helpless child to the man, I needed you to provide the one thing that the world of men will not give me. My wife.

I turn and leave the town, the anger in me building like a sea of fire. As I pass a wagon I give it a shove. The wood groans but gives under the strength of my hands, moving the wagon several feet to one side.

I go to the lake and sit listening to the sounds in the dark forest beside it. The rage ebbs away to be replaced by the joy that I have communed with my wife. I kissed her. I talked with her. I held her hands for a moment. I will allow her the time to think on what I have told her.

_Victor_

There were no intrusions last night according to any guards or staff. I did hear one slightly disturbing bit of gossip from Frau Radmacher. One of the servants saw Therese leaving Thomas' room late in the night.

With the lack of feeling from his injuries, it cannot be that they are together for sex. I wonder what it is that Therese is up to. Ragache thinks she is sticking close to Thomas because he is wealthy. If she is, then she certainly makes up for her mute state with an eye towards a man who will pay her way through life. I know nothing of her background except for the fact she was from a village to the North West near the border of France.

I do not doubt that the Demon is out there, biding his time to take her away. If she becomes a plaything for Ragache's cousin, she may leave with him. This twist leaves me to ponder how long I can keep Thomas here as well as Therese.


	5. Revelations

_Chapter 5_

_Therese_

Thomas for all of his youth has had a sobering lesson in the unfairness of life, and the necessity of finding strength from the inside. He tells me of the first days after the fall, and the progression of days from pain and disbelief to resignation, to a new found hope that somewhere, someone will find a cure for his injuries.

Victor has asked that Thomas and I go to one of the locked rooms in the north wing of the sanitarium. Meeting him, we enter a room with tiles covering the floor and running up the walls. There is a table to one side, shelves above, and in the center of the room, a large copper covered table.

Thomas reaches for my hand, giving it a quick squeeze as one of the helpers lifts him to the table. We refrain from eye contact; we do not want Victor to know we have seen something like this before.

_Victor_

It is time to try a new treatment for Thomas. His work with Therese is keeping him occupied, but I can see that he is becoming depressed over the lack of any real progress.

I have outfitted my operating theater with a static electricity producing device. I will use the machine to induce electrical currents into his legs to stimulate the muscles. From within, his body will experience the contractions. It is my hope that this stimulus will start intuitive repairs by his body.

I have an orderly put him on the table. He is still in a nightshirt. I have Therese bring a sheet to place over him, and attach the wires to his legs with tape. Turning him, I push up the material, and attach one at the base of his spine.

I start the device, my back is to Thomas, but I can see Therese watching me. I turn towards her as the device starts producing a spark between two small spheres. There is no reaction in her face, but her eyes watch the spark. Do you remember yet, my dear? I pause to look down the length of the table at her, "Therese, bring me that gauze and the blocks of wood, please."

She brings me the items I have asked for; I take them from her, my one hand under her wrist. Do you remember the wrappings, the bit in your mouth, the terrible coursing of the spark through your body? She glances at Thomas. "There will be a bit of discomfort," I tell him. I use the words I gave her as she lay on the table.

She looks into my eyes. No words are necessary. She does remember.

_Therese_

I cannot hide the truth from Victor. I do remember the awakening. The one thing he doesn't know is how I have been told the rest of it, or met the 'Demon' man in the Abbey, my intended husband.

What kind of man are you Victor? You are a doctor, a healer, you took the dead from their sleep and used them for your experiments. I did not ask to die, and my new fate has been decided by you. You have brought me back to be the companion of a once dead man.

I have seen the strange scar under the dark tendrils of Astrid's hair. You took her from death as well, didn't you? I wonder if she was to be the mate; did her childish brain ruin your plans. And now what of her, you steal into her room and use her body. Will you prostitute me as well to further your schemes? How many men will I have to satisfy for you? You planned to give me to your first creation, but something went wrong didn't it. You traffic with him, although he hides from you and warns me about you. What goes between you?

Victor rolls Thomas on his back and begins the treatments. At first there is a small series of shocks. He asks Thomas to report how severe the feeling in his body is. At first there is none, only the flinch of a muscle under the wire.

Then Thomas makes a sound, "I felt that," he reports.

"Good, Thomas," Victor says soothingly. "That means not all of your nerves were damaged in the fall." They repeat the treatment; at time I can see in Thomas' eyes that there is pain. He holds my hand, for I am the other person who has felt the stinging power of the spark. Victor moves close to him, saying quietly in his ear, "I'd like to place another electrode. I want to know what you will be capable of."

Thomas glances at me, and I move to the head of the table, beyond the view of what Victor does under the sheet. I place a hand on Thomas shoulder, showing him I am there for him, that I hope as well that this one function can return. If so, he would be capable of producing an heir on a willing woman even if he couldn't walk again. It is the difference between living as a sad shade, and being a vital man once again.

Victor turns up the device, and I see a flagging in the spark, as some of it siphons off along the wire. Thomas lays still, eyes staring above him. Victor tries again, and then raises an eyebrow. "Well, Master Wetherden. We shall have to do more of these treatments." I stare into Victor's eyes.

He makes to remove the wires and tossing them aside carelessly he leaves. Thomas licks his lips, "Therese? Will you leave me for a moment?" I nod, for looking beyond the edge of the sheet is Thomas' fierce erection. I undo his bound hands and leave the room. I do not return until I hear his hoarse cry of fulfillment.

_Victor_

There was a spark of independence in Therese's eyes as she watched me. I cannot allow it. I am her master, she will learn. If she will not bend, then I will break her. I will be able to control Master Wetherden. After all, a man will do anything to be a man.

_The Demon_

I have found Victor's new defense. Along the woods near the Abbey, someone has placed traps. I could easily break them, but I leave them. I check several other ways into the grounds for similar traps, and find them. Unless Victor is smart enough to have them moved, I know exactly where I can and cannot step. I am not a dumb animal.

I have made peace with the horses in the stable. I bring them a bit of apple or fresh grass. They no longer are nervous of my presence. The dogs on the grounds will not traffic with me. Being they were fashioned to live and defend a pack, they will always see me for an intruder. Regardless of this, I am in the stable loft in the early mornings.

I wait nearby, taking in bits of conversations. The man Ragache is coming back in a few days. And it appears he is jealous of his cousin, the young man Thomas. I already do not like this Ragache. Thomas has been a friend to my wife, and I need him to be a buffer for her from Victor. His interest in her will guarantee Victor does not try to remove her from here.

One bit of gossip slips through the servants who are doing the washing in a small building. They say that Frau Radmacher sees Therese coming from Thomas' room at night. I clasp my hands together, resisting the urge to smash through the bricks of the building. I flee the grounds, back to one of the forested areas at the boundaries of the property, smashing tree branches out of my way as I run.

My wife is with another man. I feel the tide of anger rising in my body. I tamp it down. I need to control the rage, the hatred. It is Victor who is responsible. From the moment he took a scalpel to the pieces of my body, it has been Victor who has controlled all of our fates. It was Victor who planned to finally rid himself of me. During my healing, he has tossed Therese and Thomas together.

I must talk to her. I must make her understand. _She is my wife_.

_Therese_

I retire that night after tucking Thomas in. He has reported feeling strange ghostly pains from the shocks. It is my sincerest hope that it is not a memory kindled by the electricity, that it is a genuine attempt by his body to reawaken the feeling he has lost.

Putting on my nightgown, I pull back the covers of my bed. I see something lying on the sheet. It is a piece of wire. I remember the Demon's words, "I watch you."

_The Demon_

I see the faint white of her nightgown from under the robe as she moves in the dark. She is going to the Abbey thinking to find me there. Unfortunately, Victor has chosen the same night to watch over her.

_Therese_

I carefully pull open the abbey door as to not make a sound. The darkness is relieved a little by the moon. The shafts of light pointing to the table reflect off enough to make out more of the dimensions around me. I do not call out, I move to the table. As I reach it, I hear his voice, "I knew you remembered, my dear."

I look in the direction that Victor stands, he comes into the light at the other end of the table. "You want to know, don't you? I would."

I reply, "Yes."

His face reveals a broad smile, "What was lost has been found, I see. And such a lovely voice you have, Therese." He steps forward, and raises a hand to brush my cheek. "You are a handsome woman in your own way. Lovely wavy hair," he reaches for the end of a lock on my shoulder and rubs it between his fingers. "Plain, but well formed features. I do like your nose as well."

I resist the temptation to ask if he would cut it off and give me another if he didn't.

"How much do you remember? Hmm?" He prompts me.

"I remember the power of the lightning, the sounds and the pain, and my blood. I was murdered wasn't I?"

"Yes, my dear. I am sorry. You were found raped and stabbed to death. The man was never apprehended." He turns, leaning against the table. "I have a confession to make, Therese. You are not the first to be here."

"What do you mean?" I ask. Let him tell me, I want to see how far he will go.

"I have been working for over nine years to learn the secrets that only nature could reveal about the finality of death. My Mother died after ministering to Elisabeth when she had the scarlet fever. It was that loss that turned my studies from the simple relief of suffering to the recreation of life."

"You call this life?"

He seems shocked, "You are alive again, Therese. Look at yourself," he pulls the robe aside. "You are completely healed. You can go forth and have a husband, find a life for yourself." His fingers drift down the lapels of the robe over my breast and down to my belly. "No one will know except us."

His eyes are two glittering points in the darkness. His voice sounds so reasonable, so persuasive. "You mean I'm free to be a whore like Astrid?"

This brings him up short, "No. Astrid was burned out by the storm. She will only ever be a child. I will take care of her."

He plays the part of caring physician so well. "Everyone knows you make love to her, Victor. She is a noisy 'child'."

He grabs the lapels and pulls me against him. "Let me tell you something before you fill your head with superior airs, girl. Both Astrid and you were created to be the mate of my first creature, a wretch so loathsome, so hideous that I have sought to destroy him. He was made from the flesh of murders."

"So I was brought back to be given to a man?" I asked. "What is your definition of _life_ Victor? As far as I can see it revolves around someone owning my body."

He pushes me up against the table, and stands over me, tall and immoveable, a hand on either side of the table behind me. "I don't understand your reluctance, my dear." He gives a short laugh, "After all, you have been busy with our Master Wetherden, haven't you? Have you managed to make him hard yet?"

I blink at that. Not so much as for the rudeness of his words, but the fact that he thinks that's all I want from Thomas. He must take my silence as an affirmation of his suspicions. "I can give him back his stiff prick." He walks away. "Just think of it, Therese. You could leave here the paramour of a rich man. He has an estate in England I understand. You could live comfortably."

"And what of your man, Victor," I ask.

He makes a disgusted noise. "The fiend will be run to ground soon enough. He waits out there somewhere." He looks towards the door and starts pacing. "We made a deal, he and I. He was lonely, he said, couldn't find a companion, he told me. When he found out that Elisabeth and I were to marry he started on this path of my creating a woman for him. No human woman would want him, my dear. He is monstrous." He stops and considers me, "He promised to kill Elisabeth if I didn't provide a mate. I am sorry, Therese, but that is why you are here."

He sounds genuinely contrite. I wonder why the Demon has threatened Elisabeth. Doubts now come between me and the man who kissed me here in the night not long ago. Is Victor telling me the truth?

_The Demon_

I step out of the shadows of the floor above and drop behind Victor. Taking his neck in my hands I give him a good shake and pull him against me. "Your time is up Victor."

I glance at Therese. She is looking at my face.


	6. Michael

_A/N: Thank you for your reviews! Hola,Corina. Everyone grab a cookie and sit down. _

_Chapter 6_

_The Demon_

I glance at Therese. She has seen my face. She stares at me a moment, no doubt taking in my dead eyes.

Victor calls me a monster, and here I stand proving it. I let him down from my grasp to sputter and rub his throat. "I told him a wife for a wife," I explain to Therese. "But I couldn't kill Elisabeth now. None of this is her doing. It is only between Victor and me." Victor attempts to get away from me, but I reach out causally and haul him back by his coat.

"I told you he was a monster, Therese." Victor's voice is raspy, "Light the lamp and take a look at your _husband_."

_Therese_

I fumble along the table for the flint, and strike a light to the lamp Victor brought with him.

My first reaction is fear. I have to admit that as I stand looking at the buttery colored eyes that regard me intently my first thought is of the stained glass in the church where devils with yellow eyes writhe beneath the sword of the archangel. I try to keep my hands steady on the edge of the table. Although his appearance is startling, we have met, and he has been kind to me.

He is the tallest man I have ever seen. Although not extremely muscular there is an air of power in his stance and the easy way he picks up Victor. His face is crossed by the scar I remember touching, a part of it lifts one corner of his lip. Dark hair falls past the strong column of his neck to brush powerful shoulders. His forearms are uncovered, and ringed by more scars. His shirt is open around his throat, and I can see the beginning of a scar at the base of his neck.

"That's right, my dear. This is the creature who wants to take you from here to live in some hovel like an animal and bed you."

The demon's lips twist in anger, and he gives Victor another shake. "Shut up, Victor, or I'll tear out your tongue." He looks back to me, his voice gentles, "You will be more than that to me, Therese. I came to Victor for a _companion_, a _wife_. No human woman would look at me."

I look at him. I remember his voice that first day, his hands lifting my head gently to give me water, his kiss in the dark when we first met. Is that why it was dark, because he doesn't want to see the rejection in my eyes that he must see from others?

"Look at her, fiend, she isn't like you," Victor sneers. "She has a chance to be human." With those words I see doubt cross the Demon's face.

_The Demon_

She is still looking at me, she has not turned away. With Victor's words, I see her brows lower. She could pass for human. She could leave here to rejoin the world, even find another husband. Do I do her a great injury to want to take her away from the world of men?

"Is that what you want," I ask. I wait for the stinging rejection she will deal me. I want her; I could take her away now. But for all the power I have in my body, my heart tells me that I must let her choose. She knows she is different, a thing that was dead to the world. Do I have the right to play God as Victor has?

Victor is going to speak again, no doubt to play us one against the other so I cuff him to shut him up. He falls to the floor like a dropped doll. In the silence I stand wanting to say things to her. There is a strange lump in my throat I cannot speak around.

"I have to think," she says almost dreamily.

"Wait," I tell her stepping forward with my hand stretched out, "Therese, I will love you. I will build a home for us somewhere away from men, and I will take care of you." She does not move away, only looks at me.

Victor is pulling himself up by the leg of the table. He has a stupid grin on his face; he is enjoying my pain, my wife's confusion. I long to rip his face apart, to erase that grin of satisfaction. That's probably what he wants, for her to see my grotesque rage played out. He coughs, and looks at us. "She doesn't want you."

Therese does something amazing. She looks at both of us and says, "I don't have a husband, _yet_. I decide." She looks at Victor, "There will be a peace for a while. I need time to think this through."

She turns her back on both of us.

_Therese_

My short second life is proving to be overwhelming to me. Victor's revelations, his self pride, only sicken me. My husband, if that is what he is, is quite a revelation as well. I also think of Thomas, he is my only friend, and possibly my only tenuous line to making sense of my future.

As I step towards the door, I feel my husband move forward swiftly; he holds the door closed with a hand. A man is stronger than a woman; I know I could not force the door open against his strength. "Will you give me a chance," he asks in a soft voice. For all Victor's descriptions of him, this gentle man is not what I would have expected.

I turn to look upward into his face; his eyes are golden in the reflection of the lamp. It is hard to make out his expression because his eyes are so alien. "Yes," I reply. "We will talk." I look past him to Victor, "You will call off the dogs, Victor. You will do nothing to break the peace, or as I stand now and vow before God, Astrid and I will pay a visit to Elisabeth." I look up at my husband, "The same goes for you. You come near him or his family, and I will never speak to you again."

His mouth sets in a hard line, his body is suddenly rigid, the surge of his anger is almost tangible in the air between us. His anger makes him seem to grow larger and more frightening. This change raises goose bumps on my skin, but I reach out and rest a hand on his chest. His face changes to one of such hope it is almost painful to see. "Tomorrow, be here and we can talk."

He lets the door open and I walk out. Whether he and Victor have more words is not my concern. Deciding what to do with my life is.

Victor

The arrogant little bitch walks away like some queen. How dare she talk to me like that? For the first time in my life I want to hit a woman, but looking at the back of the Demon, I reconsider. He could easily lift me into the air and twist my spine in half if I were to touch her.

I have to change my plans. I can still hope to control her through Thomas. She cares for him; perhaps she will listen to him.

This 'peace' she forces upon us has one grace-it grants me time. She and the Demon will be checking for the dogs and the guards. I may have to use a more subtle type of force on her when the time comes.

I get up, and dust off my coat. The Demon turns to speak to me, "I meant what I said Victor. This is between you and I. Your family is safe."

"Forgive me if I fail to believe you," I reply dryly.

"Victor," he says tiredly, "this may be a shock to you, but not all of us give a damn whether you do or not." He moves out into the moonlight and is gone.

_Therese_

I go back to my room, and lying down, stare at the ceiling.

Victor is right; I could say the scar was superficial. I run my hand over it. Would I be able to leave, to find a man and marry? Would I feel like a hypocrite pledging my 'life' to someone when I do not know anything of how this new life will be. Would I give birth to children?

He said I could pass as human. What does that make me now? Am I something less or more than the people who live around me?

And worse, I remember the pleading look from the Demon. I can only imagine the depth of his loneliness. But again, I would have to hide away from the world as he does. I could move about villages, but eventually someone will want to know about my husband. He cannot be seen.

I prop up my pillow and regard my body. Why am I, who used to be a girl on a farm, now the object of so much male fighting? I can understand the Demon wanting me, he has no one. But what use do I have for Victor? He already has Astrid to pump his lust into, and Elisabeth to return to for love and family.

I give up trying to get to sleep. Throwing on a blouse and a skirt, I slip on my shoes and a shawl for my shoulders. I go to the stable and saddle one of the horses. We make our way out onto the road to the village. I stop to tie the horse to the gate at the church.

Walking through the moonlight I pass the headstones of the locals who rest here. Rest. I had very little of it, and since my rebirth I will have little more. I go to the church door and swing it open. Covering my hair with my shawl I pause to genuflect at the door, and make the sign of the cross. I wonder for a moment if God will be happy to see me in his house.

I go to the front, sitting in a seat along the wall and look at the still burning candles in the front before the altar. Someone lit them for a loved one. Were there candles somewhere for me? Does my Father still say prayers for my soul? I realize with a start that standing across the church from me is my husband. He stands as still as a statue, only looking at me.

"I couldn't sleep." I make a motion with my hand, and he comes to me. He stops and sits down near me; the pew makes a noise under his weight. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks at the candles, "I couldn't either," he replies.

We sit in companionable silence for a while. He looks away from me, and I have a chance to look him over. He has broad shoulders and powerful looking thighs. I wonder if his body belonged to a man who did hard work for a living. His chest muscles look like a wood cutter's, a man who is used to long hours of swinging an axe. Without seeing his eyes, he looks to be any other man. I wonder how old he was when death took him, and if he remembers any of his life before. He glances at me and asks, "Did I interrupt your prayers?"

I ask, "Do you think God listens to us?"

He nods, "Yes, I think so. Maybe not in the way he listens to the _others_, but he does have a plan for us or the storms that brought us to life would not have happened as they did. Astrid should have survived in tact, but didn't. There was another female, Bette. The storm that brought her back did not abate. I took her away from Victor that night, and the constant rain helped make her sick. She died quickly of a fever."

"You mean I'm your third wife?"

"You are my only wife, Therese. I could not look upon Astrid as a woman; she will always be a child. I nursed Bette, but never told her of her purpose. You are my only wife."

"And if something happens to me," I let the question hang in the air. I could sicken, or I could leave.

He looks at me in silence. "There will not be another."

"Will you leave Victor?"

"I came back to Victor at first in a vain attempt to alleviate my loneliness. I thought he could bring me a woman of my circumstances. Being other than human, we would live apart from men. I did threaten him at first with Elisabeth. Victor for all his intelligence is a self centered ass, he doesn't see that what I meant was for him to understand how lonely I was, not that I would go kill Elisabeth. I'll leave them. Victor will spend his whole life seeing shadows everywhere. If it keeps him from creating more of us, it will be enough."

The quiet descends upon us again. I think about what Victor said; that this man is to be my husband and take me away from here. What am I to do? I look up to the crucifix above the alter, then move to rest my head in my hands, my elbows on the back of the pew in front of me.

Am I truly alive to be given to this man? I have been with a man before, and I wonder at whether this is what I should do with this second life I have been granted. I could go with Thomas, he offers me a home and friendship. I would stay at the sanitarium, but fear what Victor has in store for me. What happens to me if I leave with the Demon?

He sits quietly with me lost in his own thoughts no doubt. I pray and ask God to help me find a life for myself.

I get up, "We should leave." I step around the pew and go to the front by the candles. He joins me, looking down at them. For a moment, I can see the outline of his pupils under the haze in his eyes. I wonder what color they were. I glance past him at the stained glass window. The moonlight behind it has highlighted the scene of the angel Michael carrying a great sword. His dark hair floats around his powerful body.

I look at my husband, "Your name is Michael." He turns stunned eyes to me, and I point behind him. Turning back he sees the archangel with the sword. He has a rather bemused look on his face when he turns back.

"I tire of calling you _Demon_," I explain.

"Oh," he says lightly, "I though it was the resemblance to the huge sword."

I stare at him for a moment before I realize he has made a joke, "Good God!"

"I can't vouch for God, but Victor did make sure I was a man."

There is such self assured male pride in his face I almost ask _how_ much of a man Victor made him, but refrain. I don't know how many more revelations I could stand in one night.

We go outside and he offers me a hand up onto the horse. He takes the reigns and walks me back to the sanitarium. When we reach the stables I slide off the horse into his waiting arms. He holds me aloft for a moment, our faces close. "You are my only wife," he says and sets me down.

He turns away and unsaddles the horse, leading it back to its stall. I watch him as he moves, doing mundane things with his strong hands. He is gentle with the animal as he removes the bridle and the saddle. He catches me watching him and looks at me. He slings the saddle in his hands aside as if it was weightless and walks over. Lifting me, he sets me on the edge of something flat behind me, pushes up my skirt and steps between my legs. His hands run up my hips to pull me close to him, and his mouth descends on mine.

I open my lips, and his tongue slides into my mouth. His hands knead my hips and I can feel him hard already through his pants. His mouth moves on mine. As I break away to gasp for breath, his hands come up to cup my breasts. His teeth find my neck. I am immersed in the feeling of his hands on me, he tugs and my nipples harden, he nuzzles at my neck.

He breaks away and returns his mouth to mine. For a long time we kiss. He stops, his lips close to my mouth. "Therese."

I can hardly draw in enough breath to speak, "Yes."

"I will make you mine, wife. Every night, I will do this and more." He kisses me again gently, and steps away from me. His strange eyes are filled with emotion as he brings a hand to my neck. We look at each other, and then he lifts me again, and sets me down. "Get out of here, now, while I have the mind to let you go." He says roughly. The fierce look in those mysterious eyes tells me to leave or he will have me flat on my back, and finish what our bodies want.

I step back. Turning to the sanitarium, I walk quickly to my room. I do not think either one of us will get very much sleep tonight.


	7. Birthing

_Greetings, Hola, and Konichiwa everyone. _

_Chapter 7_

_Therese_

The time has come. Elisabeth begins her labor in the afternoon. The nurses let me know, and I leave to join her. I took the children to the conservatory to sit with Thomas. He is a gifted story teller, and will keep them entertained for a while.

Holding her hand, we walk slowly around her home. She pauses when the contractions start, gripping my arm and wincing. As they pass we continue. We do this for several hours until she decides to sit in a rocker and rest between the pains. Victor is noticeably absent. She must see my glance towards the door and smiles. "He hates this part, you know." She says. "He will attend the birthing, but says he hates to see the pain before it."

I smile back at her. She is a lovely woman, golden haired, with light blue eyes. I truly believe he loves her, I just don't understand why he keeps going back to Astrid. I wonder if he will ever send Astrid away. A chilling thought comes to me.

Astrid has the scars, he could say they were caused by the make believe injury that took her intellect. Like Michael she was pieced together, I wonder what he did with the rest of the bodies. Did he simply take pieces out of graves, or did he bring the whole back. If so, how does he dispose of them?

I need to ask Michael. Are the grounds littered with corpses, or does Victor know a way of disposing of the rest? If I know the answer to that, I know the answer to the fate of all of us he created.

Just near midnight, Elisabeth asks me to get Victor, the pains are closer. I give her a last look, and leave the room to find him.

He is sitting in the conservatory that buffers his house from the rest of the sanitarium. It is a peaceful Eden of chairs and plants. The air is moist and heavy with the smells of rich soil that the plants thrive in. I come to his chair, "Victor, it is time."

"Will you come with me?"

I nod and follow. I will help with the sheets, and the cleaning of the child.

The birth is quick; it is Elisabeth's third child. She seems tired, but elated. They have another son. Victor finishes delivering the afterbirth, and I hand over the swaddled baby to Elisabeth. Victor washes quickly, and joins her, looking at their new child.

I leave them, it is their time together. I take the basin and the towels away. A while later I return, tapping lightly on the door. Elisabeth is asleep and Victor sits in a chair holding his son. He looks weary, but happy. As I look back towards Elisabeth, I notice there is a bright crimson stain on the sheet. Dread wraps icy fingers around my throat.

"Victor."

He sees my face. He quickly stands and puts his son down into the cradle. Coming to the edge of the bed he sees the blood.

We work quickly to remove the sheets, and prop Elisabeth's legs up over pillows. I run to bring in an extra lamp. Victor's hand is covered in bright blood. "The north room," he tells me, moving to pick up Elisabeth.

He carries her to the room as I run to wake up Frau Radmacher. She opens her door and sees my face; she throws on her robe and follows me. We converge in the room. Another orderly is inside with Victor, he is lighting lamps above the table. Victor is taking out surgical instruments.

We lift Elisabeth onto the table; Victor sets her feet in the stirrups and aims the light at her belly. Frau Radmacher shows me how to drip the liquid into the cloth over her face to help relax her. They tie Elisabeth's hands down and her legs to the stirrups. The drug will make her drowsy, but there is nothing that can be done for the pain.

From her first sharp cry, it seems an eternity as I stand at her head watching Victor work steadily to find the vein that will not close. He threads a needle, and I wince every time I see it disappear below the sheet. I wipe the tears of pain from Elisabeth's eyes. I can feel my own tears coursing down my face.

Women die this way. Their bodies cannot repair the sudden shock of the birth as the sack the child has grown in tears away leaving the veins to turn to open rivers of blood. Victor finally is slowing. He rests a bloody hand on the table and I see relief on his face. "It has stopped," he says.

We all breathe a collected sigh. Death has come this way tonight, but turned aside. We get things cleaned up, and Victor says to take care of the children. He wraps Elisabeth in blankets, sitting on the stool next to her, he holds her hand.

I remember a hand holding mine.

_Victor_

Elisabeth might have died. The fear of losing her hammers at my brain. If Therese had not come in when she did, I might have fallen asleep in the chair to wake seeing Elisabeth's pale body in a sea of blood soaking our bed.

I sit holding the hand of the only woman I have ever loved. Since the first time as a child my parents brought her to our home I have always considered her to be mine. I cannot picture my life without her; I do not want to ever find out.

Frau Radmacher extinguishes some of the lamps and leaves. Therese comes back with a blanket for me. She knows I will not leave Elisabeth. As she turns to leave I see her lying on a table, the Demon looking down at her. Did he hold her hand like this? Has my first creation moved beyond the reanimated murderers to grasp humanity once again?

_The Demon_

It is a strange quiet that descends upon all of us. I hear that Elisabeth has birthed a son, but could have died. Victor stays with her, making sure the bleeding does not start again.

Can you understand me now, Victor, as you keep your tireless vigil over her? A man cleaves to a woman and his life is no longer his own. His sustenance is second in his mind, hers is of paramount importance. Her pain is felt more keenly by the man who is bound to protect her. He knows the fear of her leaving, dying. He knows a part of his soul will go with her.

I had a nightmare last night. I was looking for the woman I had dreamed about. I have something to tell her, I walk through the rooms of an empty house, I know that this house is mine. She is my wife. Young and beautiful with dark eyes and hair, she is the center of my universe. I grow agitated that I cannot find her. I leave to walk somewhere. I pass buildings as I walk. As I look for her my anger burns. I come to the end of the road to another house. I do not knock; I push open the door and walk inside. I find her on her back, above her is her lover. She cries out in her ecstasy, and I grab the man by the neck and jerk him off of her. Her cries turn to a scream as she sees my face; I take her neck in my hands and squeeze, feeling something in her throat crush in my grip. When her eyes are finally empty, I turn to the man who is trying to drag me off of her. I beat him to death with an iron tool from the fireplace. Breathing hard, I look down at her. Her lover's blood covers my hands, the tool slides from my grasp. I feel the trap door open, my body fall, and the rope snap my neck.

Which part of me was this? Was it one of the murderers whose body I now inhabit? Was this the intelligent man who lent me his brain? Could a man of such accomplishments do such a thing? The answer is yes.

_Therese_

We have all passed the next day feeling tired, listless. I do not think anyone has the energy to do more than their routines. Victor finally comes out of the north room. He goes to the kitchens and gets something to eat, and goes to check on the children.

We have had a wet nurse come in from the village. She was here once before with Victor's daughter when Elisabeth contracted an infection in a breast and could not feed her. The woman is good with the children, talking to them while the newest son sleeps. She sits in Elisabeth's rocker, the child suckling at her milk engorged breast, and hums a song to him. As I look in on them, I feel a twinge in my own breast. Will I ever have a child?

I think of Michael in the stable. He said Victor made sure he was a man, does that mean Victor intend him to father children? And what of me? Was I left fertile, was I to be given to Michael to bear a child?

I have so many things to ask him. I do not go outside during the day. I do not want to be seen or followed. Although Victor has sent some of the men away, there are always prying eyes and wagging tongues in the sanitarium. If someone sees Michael, our time of peace will be ended.

I go to spend some time with Thomas. He seems in good spirits. He is sitting up on his bed, letters around him, and shows me a board that an orderly brought him to act as a writing desk.

I tell him all of what has transpired, he sits asking me how I feel, and I tell him I am not sure. "I did find a name for my husband," I tell him the story of the glass angel and the sword. He finds this highly amusing.

"You call Michael your husband, love. Do you see him that way?"

"I don't know. I know what I mean to him. I am not sure yet with moving into the life of a wife."

He gives the hand he was holding a tug, and I move into the circle of his arm. "It will be all right, Therese." His hand strokes my arm. "If you want to leave here, we will go. I'd marry you, Therese, if you'd have me."

"Thank you, Thomas." I give him a kiss.

"Think about it, Therese. I don't care about your past." His hand brushes my ribs, "We wouldn't be here together if that man hadn't done that to you." He adds after a pause, "Victor's treatments have seemed to work." He tosses aside the book from his lap, and the sheet is tented over him. "The sturdy English Oak has returned. I could be a father."

I smile and I feel a heat in my cheeks, "Thomas," my voice sounds husky in my ears.

"I mean it, lass. I would keep you myself if you'd let me."

I am so happy for him. "You are a dear friend, Thomas. But you are not for me, do you understand?" His dark eyes search mine, and he smiles.

I cannot lie with him. It is not my desire, and in a strange way I feel it would not be fair to Michael. He has been patient with me when he could have easily forced me to be his wife. I think he is allowing me the time to learn to love him.

Thomas has become my friend. As I wheeled him around the grounds, he read to me, becoming my teacher. He has revealed a larger world to this village girl, from Scottish castles in Shakespeare to the lower circles of Hell in Dante. I in turn must reveal something to him.

He believes that no woman will come to love him, that he is not a man a woman would want. I believe he has a love for me, but he is clutching onto me because we share that emotion. He needs to see that love is not a thing to grasp in consolation, when there is a larger prize elsewhere.

Going to my own room, I undress and put on my nightgown. I pull on my robe to go out to the stable. I look around, but do not find Michael. I go to the Abbey, but he isn't there either. I have a terrible feeling that he is gone. It makes me panic, I start walking towards the woods.

_The Demon_

I see her in the night; she is going to the woods. I cannot let her walk there; Victor's traps are still set. I do not want her hurt, but I am afraid to go near her. I remember the dream, my jealous rage, and killing my wife.

I feel disgusting, like the blood of her lover has stained my skin. I should have let them go. I should have just turned and left her. Her unfaithfulness cost her her life. Was it because she wanted another, was it because I was not the man to give her what she wanted? For all the intellect in this man's head, was he an inattentive husband, a poor lover?

I sit on a downed tree; my thumb rubs along the scar on my face. I remember Victor's words. Therese could pass for human. Will I bring her life to ruin as I did my first wife's? What if we go away and she doesn't learn to love me, will simple survival with her be enough for either of us?

I go to Therese.

_Therese_

I wander along the fringes of the trees. It is too dark to see much even in the moonlight. I fear going in and getting tangled up and tripping over something. If I do not find Michael, I may lay hurt until dawn if I fell.

I turn back to the sanitarium. As I go back, I see Edgar Ragache has returned. I pause at the corner of the building; I do not want him to see me. He goes into the main doors. I feel as if someone is watching me, turning I see Michael. He says, "That man Ragache is back I see."

"Yes. I don't like him. He badgers Thomas and tries to keep us apart." There is a narrowing of those baleful yellow eyes. I try to be honest with him, "I love Thomas, he is a dear friend to me." He says nothing but gives his great head a shake.

I am for some reason filled with such pride at that simple nod. If he was the monster Victor paints him to be, he would have stalked into the building and hunted down Thomas. "Thank you," I tell him.

"For what?"

"For not proving Victor is right." I say and step towards him. I reach for his hand and hold it. He looks thoughtful but does not say more. "I do need to know something," I ask, "how does Victor dispose of the bodies?"

He looks at me and seems to be deciding how much to tell me. "In Astrid's case he had to repair the neck. If you notice she wears a ribbon, necklace or high collar. It covers the scar around the base of her neck. Bette died in childbirth. The other man he created was like me." He holds out his arms to show the scars. "He picked and chose what parts he wanted. We were his examples of how man could improve over what God designed. When the second man died, Victor and Carl took him to the river and weighed the body down with stones. As he was an assemblage of corpses, no one would be looking for a body."

"Carl?"

"Yes, his assistant until your rebirth. On the third day they wheeled you out to the Abbey. While I stood with Victor looking at you, he had Carl shoot me in the back with a shotgun. I killed Carl as I left. I don't know what Victor did with the body."

_The Demon_

She is looking at me in horror. "I don't remember," she says in a tremulous voice. She looks like a lost child, I open my arms and she steps into them.


	8. Killer

**A/N** Thank you so much to my reviewers. Your communications inspire me on.

_Chapter 8_

_The Demon_

She is looking at me in horror. "I don't remember," she says in a tremulous voice. She looks like a lost child, I open my arms and she steps into them. I am so surprised I almost cannot speak. "Therese, it wasn't your fault." I lift a hand to stoke her hair.

"How can he do this?" she asks.

"He believes in his own superiority. He thinks his quest for knowledge and that God can be replaced by men of science is the course that would benefit mankind."

"Victor is an intelligent man, Therese. He left the village here to go to Ingoldstadt, Bavaria, to the university. He began the studies and experiments that would lead to our reanimations. During that time, someone must have rebuffed him for his work. Like many intelligent people, Victor has no patience for those around him who are not at his level. Being chastised by colleagues and professors would be more than he could stomach."

"He became obsessed with his works. He wants to prove himself, to exonerate himself in front of those people. I was to be his godlike example of his genius. Instead, he realized too late that he had gone too far. My first memory of him is the disbelief on his face when he looked into my eyes. I am an ugly, inhuman example to show his detractors even though I am far above them in physical abilities."

We stand for a moment and I feel her sigh against me. "How badly were you hurt?"

"Badly enough that it took three months to come back here to you," I lift her head. "There was not one day that I did not look back towards the sanitarium, knowing that he had you. You looked at me that first day when they took the wrappings off your eyes. That is what I kept seeing, wanting to see again."

I want to ask her, will she be mine? I don't. I enjoy the feel of her in my arms and thank God that she feels enough for me that she grants me this. It is because of these small gifts that I have the strength to let her go. I am falling in love with Therese; I want her to come to me.

_Therese_

Victor has tried to kill Michael. My calm acceptance of my life is now shattered. I hold on to Michael. I had not realized before how important he is to me. He is the only one who can understand what I am going through to find a new life.

There must be something in my eyes, because his lips descend to take mine. It is awkward for a moment, because he is so tall. We break apart and he picks me up, he carries me to the Abbey.

We return to the place of my birth. The table has now been cleared. "I took away the instruments and the wires. I don't want Victor to keep his reanimation tools. I threw them into an ice chasm up on the mountain side," he tells me. He turns his body and carries me up a very steep set of steps to the loft above.

On the floor he has made a pallet. There is a blanket, a washing bowl and jug, and some other items I cannot make out in the dark. He sets me down and gestures towards his pallet. I curl up my legs, and sit on it.

"Do you sleep here?"

"Sometimes I do. I want to stay near you because of Victor." He moves about, lighting a number of small candles. Their flames reveal a book lying on the floor.

"You can read?"

"Yes," he sits down on the pallet next to me where I sat to pick up the book. He sits with a leg bent, his elbow resting on it as he runs a thumb over the scar on his face. "I remember French and German. I think I read Latin as well."

It is now time for the questions that I have longed to ask. "Do you remember who you were?"

A shadow passes his eyes as he looks at me, "Therese, I have to warn you. You cannot go back." His large hand reaches up to lift my chin so that I look at his eyes. "I understand what you feel. You have memories, and you still love your Father and Mother. But you died to them, Therese. They would not accept you back.

I feel the mist of tears in my eyes. "Am I to mourn my whole life because I still love them? I still want to know that they are well."

_The Demon_

I sit looking into her eyes. This is going to be hard for her, but it must be done. "That is why I say we must leave, Therese. The temptation is too great not to go back and look after them. But you have to understand that they will see you as something evil."

She takes a shaky breath, and it pains me to see her upset. "Are we evil?"

"No, Therese. We committed no sins in being chosen to return to life. If there is any evil in this, it is a result of Victor's decisions." I pause to let her wipe her eyes. "There is no way to explain what we are. People look at me and they see the Demon, the yellow eyes, the scarred body. I am labeled something vile because they can put no other name to what I am."

"That is why you wish to go away from here?"

"I want us to go away from men. I want to find our own place in the world away from prying eyes, and their superstitious fear."

She sighs heavily. "What do you remember of your life?"

It is my turn to sigh. "Victor kept a journal to record his experiments. It was through it I found that I am composed of three men. My body was a convicted killer who Victor and Carl exhumed from a pauper's field. My hands came from another man. The other hands were too damaged as was the head. My head and brain came from the only man whose life I can remember." Memories flash before my eyes in sharp focus as if they were only yesterday. Smells seem unusually sharp, more so than sounds. I can see my murdered wife, but her voice is muffled as she speaks to me.

"I remember a house, my wife, and work I did teaching somewhere."

"You had a wife?"

"I was hanged for killing her."

_Therese_

He is gazing at me intently. No doubt, he is gauging my response to this new piece of his story. If he killed one wife, would he kill another? "What happened?"

He purses his lips and looks down for a moment. This must be hard for him. "I found her with another man. I strangled her. When she was dead, I turned on him and beat him to death." He makes a gesture with his hands, "She must have needed something that I could not give her. I do know that she was very young, I found her in Italy I think. She was beautiful."

There is a wistful note in his voice, a sadness for a love lost. I wonder at how an intelligent man could so brutally kill, but understand how passion can drive people to do things they have better sense than to succumb to.

"Victor is right in his reference to my rage." He gets to his feet and paces as he speaks. "I was unprepared for the feelings that would come to me when my memories returned. Victor left me, so I had no one to talk to about what I was dealing with. I learned from observing others, how to deal with the anger. I spent a lot of time curbing the impulsiveness. You see, with this improved body of Victor's, the simplest act of my strength could bring disaster. So, coupled with the pain of my crime and my death, I worked on how I could control my reactions."

He slows his pacing. He looks like a man who is tired. I know how he feels, I give a short laugh and he turns to me, "It seems I am not the only one having a hard time with my _new life_."

He is looking down, his hair falling like a curtain between us. He usually stays near me when we talk. I wonder if he is struggling now with old emotions, old rages. He turns and walks back to me, sitting before me, cross legged on the floor, his hands resting on his knees. "Do I," he starts, but stops. I move to take his hand but he slides it away. "Do I revolt you?"

For a long moment I pause before answering him. I look at his hands. These were not the hands of the husband who killed his wife. Who do they belong to? "No. Michael, what if the true purpose of our lives as we lived them before could not be completed unless we went through this?" At this he finally raises his head. "What if it takes a second chance," I reach for him and this time he lets me take his hand. "What ever design you complete, perhaps had to be done between the three men who make you. They lent you parts of themselves. But you are actually becoming _Michael_."

"And what of you," he asks, "who is Therese?"

His eyes bore into mine, I know what he is asking. "We will find out," I say.

_Victor_

I am so relieved that Elisabeth seems better. We finally move her back to our bedroom. The children are anxious to see her, and we have a short and joyous reunion. I hustle them out to the wet nurse, who brings me my son. Sitting on the bed next to Elisabeth we decide on a name. I want him named for my long time friend, Henry Clerval. We decide on Albert Henry Frankenstein.

I tell her to sleep, to give her body time to repair. I must go back to conducting my rounds. It will be time to check in on Master Wetherden and Therese.

_Therese_

One of the servants tells me Astrid wants to see me. I cannot think why. I do not enjoy her company. She spends her childish days trying on gowns and changing her hair.

I believe I resent her because she represents everything I am not. From her night dark hair, her luminous brown eyes, and her classic features, she has the face that Homer's Helen might have been taken from. I feel plain and colorless around her. If she was intelligent, no one will ever know, for it has left her now.

I go to her room, and she is sitting before a vanity, combing out her long dark hair. Large stones like diamonds dangle from her ears, and a necklace of similar design circles her throat. Her robe is open enough that one slim leg is revealed, and the smooth line of her shoulders.

"Therese, I want you to pin up my hair," she says smiling.

I wonder at why she needs to impose on my work with the patients, but go to her back and take the brush. She sits smiling smugly at me like a child who has stirred up some mischief. Looking up with the brush in my hand, I see the reflection of Edgar Ragache behind me. Our eyes meet in the mirror.

"Aren't you glad to see me, Therese?" He asks.

He knows I do not speak. I stare at him.

"I missed you, child." He saunters up behind me, a hand on my waist. Once again he moves it up and down and leans in to my ear. "I missed you," he says again. His hands pull me back against him.

Astrid giggles, covering her mouth with one slim hand. "Are we going to play the game," she asks.

"Of course, my princess," Edgar lets me go. The expression in his eyes turns hard as he looks down at Astrid's back. I feel like a stone is weighing down my stomach. I have seen this look before. It is the look Luther had in his eyes as he hit me. Ragache watches me in the mirror, "Astrid and I want you to tell us some stories, Therese." He lets his hands drift up Astrid's neck. He lifts the necklace and starts to slowly pull it tight around her throat.

Astrid's expression begins to change, she lifts her hands but he orders her, "Hands down, Darling." She complies but I can see that she is in pain. The glittering pretty stones have now become something ugly to her. I watch impassively. He will not tell me more until he has finished his little play for me.

Ragache lets the necklace go; Astrid rubs at her throat with hesitant hands. Her lips form a pout. Her little game has gone awry. Ragache turns to me. I have slid my hand behind my skirt, I still hold the brush.

"We want you to tell us a story, a story about a prince, who is injured in a terrible battle. The prince goes to the magician for his healing, and meets a princess." I glance at Astrid, he called her 'princess', and she is smiling now. "He falls in love with the princess and they live happily ever after."

He is closer to me now; I have backed up near the door. He stretches out a hand next to the wall by my head. "Now, Therese, you don't want to come between the prince and princess do you?" The meaning is clear to me. Ragache can control Astrid. He hopes to foist her on Thomas and control him through her.

I actually laugh, "You can't mean Thomas would be interested in her do you?"


	9. Linchpin

**A/N** I will be on vacation next weekend, so the next update will be in two weeks. Sorry!

Chapter Nine

_Therese_

I actually laugh, "You can't mean Thomas would be interested in her do you?"

I get a shocked look from Astrid and Ragache both. "Not fair!" Astrid says, stomping her foot, "Not fair, the prince is mine!"

Ragache grabs my hair, "He will be, won't he?" He twists and I can feel tears come to my eyes. "Stay out of it, Therese." He starts to shove me by the hair, and I go with it, stumbling towards the foot of the bed. I turn completely around and hit him in the nose with the brush. His head snaps back, and a gout of blood runs between the hands he has brought up to his face. Astrid starts screaming. I go for the door; it is my only hope of getting out. The door is locked. I move away, but he catches me by the hair again, and slings me against the bed.

I am on the bed; his knee is on my back. Astrid is still screaming, her hands tugging at her own hair. I hope she screams more, for it is all that might save me from his wrath. He is cursing me, his voice shrill. He pulls me up off the bed by the hair and slams my head into the side of the dresser. The pain is awful but my fear overrides it. My fingers turn to claws as I try to pry his hands out of my hair. I need to get away from him before he hurts me worse.

There are sounds of a scuffle, people are at the door, and I hear several voices around Astrid's screaming. Finally, they untangle his hand from my hair and I sink to the floor. Victor and two orderlies are dragging him out. Frau Radmacher comes to kneel by me, her hands are strong but gentle as she tips my head up. I have blood running out of one ear, a nostril, and shooting pains in the temple on that side. She and a servant get me up and set me on the bed.

People are still crowding by the door. Astrid starts whimpering, one of the servants has gone to her to calm her down. She points at the door, "Edgar is a very bad man." Several people hear her including Victor who has come back, he joins the Frau and asks me if I'm alright.

I raise a shaking hand. "Yes," I say. The Frau's mouth forms a small 'o' of surprise and she starts talking to me in soothing tones. They get me up and take me to my room. She helps me change into my gown and puts me into bed. One of the other servants brings in a cold compress to put on my head.

Victor comes in later; he brings my something for the pain and checks the ear. "I'm sorry, Therese. Thomas is having a couple of the local villagers take Ragache away from here. Evidently Ragache wants to control Thomas, and sees you in his way."

"Astrid?" I ask. "I think he hurt her."

Victor's brows lower, "That bastard. I'll check on her. Take the medicine, my dear. We'll check in on you later." I turn on my opposite side, away from my throbbing head.

_Victor_

I check on Astrid. She smiles a little and shakes her head 'no' when I ask if she is hurt. She tells me that Edgar twisted her necklace, and I check her throat. There is some redness, but as yet no bruising. I am surprised at how angry I am.

Ragache had disturbed the peaceful order of my sanitarium, and threatened two of the women. Thomas has had a belly full of him and turns him out. Thomas is beside himself with worry over Therese. I tell him he can visit her in a couple of hours when she has had a chance to rest.

This is a setback to my plans. I had hoped to use Ragache's influence on Thomas to keep him here for a while. It would give me time to plan adequately the removal of the Demon.

I glance out of the window at the stable. I do not know if the Demon is there. I am surprised that if he was, he stayed away.

_The Demon_

I pace the stable loft watching as the dying rays of the sun slide along the ground into the dark of the forest. I must wait until the lights extinguish in the building before going to check on Therese. I heard the screaming and saw them drag Ragache out.

_Therese_

I wake up and my room is dim. A lamp burns on my dresser and one by my bed. Someone has set a small pitcher of water and a glass nearby. I set up slowly, my head aches. There is a sound, and Thomas rolls forward in his chair out of the darkness.

"How are you, lass?"

I touch my ear gingerly. "I hurt."

"Victor says the blood was only on the outer ear, a scratch when you hit your head. Do you want me to get Victor?"

"No. It will hurt for a while. Can you pour me a drink?"

Thomas turns the chair a little and rolls closer to the nightstand. He pours some water into the glass and offers it to me. My hand is shaking badly, and Thomas is too far away to give me any assistance. Suddenly there is a large hand around the glass with mine, guiding it to my lips.

I close my eyes to drink. Opening them, I see Michael holding the glass. He is kneeling by the bed looking at Thomas, who sits with a stupefied expression on his face. Michael gives him a nod, "Monsieur," he says in his deep voice.

"Whe... Wetherden. Thomas Wetherden," he stammers.

"Therese calls me Michael." For a moment they simply stare at one another.

"You really do have yellow eyes," Thomas says.

"Not by my choice," Michael answers with lift of his brow.

"More, please," I say and Michael brings the glass to my lips again.

Michael asks what happened. Thomas tells him what he knows of Ragache's attack on me. Michael looks away from both of us. I think he is trying to control his urge to let loose the rage inside him. He passes the glass over to Thomas who sets it on the nightstand. He moves to sit on the bed.

Sitting on the foot of the bed in the dim light he looks like some warrior king out of an archaic legend. His long dark hair falling on his shoulders he sits running a thumb along the scar on his face. In the dim light, his eyes glow like molten gold. He places a hand on the blanket over my legs.

I look at the two of them, "If you two can't be quiet, I shall go mad," I say flippantly. They look at each other as if the say I have had my brains addled, but Thomas grins. "I'll retire; you'll be in good hands, lass." He gives my hand a squeeze and rolls around the bed and Michael closes the door behind him and turns the key.

"Will you be alright?"

"I'd guess I shall be."

He moves to the window, he must have come in that way. I sit up, loathe to be alone I ask, "Will you stay with me a while?"

He turns to me, and comes back to the bed. After several adjustments of pillows, arms and legs, I lie on my side spooned up against his body. I wake sometime later, and he gets me another glass of water. We drift off again, my last thought is that I like the way this feels.

_The Demon_

We lay for a moment; I feel her body twitch and I can feel her limbs go totally relaxed. At the very last, she gives one small sigh and I know she is in the world of dreams.

I shift my arm off of her because as I relax, I do not want the weight of it to disturb her. Lying as we are, her head is under my chin, the soles of her feet rest against my leg. She smells of soap and lavender. It feels so wonderful to hold her, to know that she feels safe in my arms.

_Therese_

My dreams are a jumble of images. I stand next to my Mother as she teaches me to make bread. Turning, I leave our little house and go to the barn where a boy awaits me. He takes a ribbon from his pocket and tells me 'Happy Birthday'. I leave through a door into the sunshine. My friend waits outside; we giggle and talk while I wait for my parents to leave the church. I hear my Father say my name.

I open my eyes, and Michael is there. "Therese, I must go," he tells me. Dawn is painting my window a burnt gold. He brushes my cheek, and then goes to the window to leave.

I lay awake for a while, then go back to my dreams.

_Victor_

I have another addition to the sanitarium, Herr Dirnegg. He is an Austrian landowner who is suffering from consumption. He knows that it is only a matter of time, but has come here in hopes of extending his last days as he no longer has any family to care for him.

I recommend he sits in the conservatory when the sun is bright. The warm moist air should help dampen his coughing fits. Interestingly enough, I pass through, and Astrid has come out of her room. She stands at the end of the hallway, shyly peeking at the man.

I stop to ask her if she needs something. She shakes her head once, and says 'no'. It is an automatic reaction for her. Waiting a moment, she will tell me what she means. "That man, where is his wife?"

"He doesn't have one, Astrid. He has no family left in the world."

She looks very serious as she turns to gaze at him. Something about the man has interested her, enticed her away from her dresses and her jewelry and her hair. I wonder what goes on in her mind. Is she simple through and through, or is there an intelligent mind locked in that bony prison, struggling to be free.

_Therese_

My head aches for a number of days, but I get back to making my rounds with the staff. I am shocked to find Astrid in the hall one day, motioning me over to her.

"What is it Astrid?"

"Can you get me a book," she asks.

"What sort of book? Do you want a story book?"

She nods once and says 'no', but then says, "Yes, please."

I go to Elisabeth and ask to borrow one of the children's story books for Astrid. She fetches a book for me, a slight frown on her face. I fear she knows about Victor and Astrid. It must be so disheartening for her to know her husband finds more allure in the bed of a childish woman than in the arms of his wife. I wish I could reassure her that I think he loves her.

_Victor_

I am on my way through the conservatory when I see Therese looking in the room. She turns to me and points, I approach slowly and taking a look I see Astrid sitting on a chair near Herr Dirnegg. She is reading a story to him in what appears to be fluent Austrian. Apparently not all of her mental powers have been burned out.

_The Demon_

Therese leaves her light burning in her window. I go to check on her and she tells me of Astrid's new interest. "I am happy for her. She needs a purpose to her life."

She asks me, "What do you think Victor will do with me if I stay here?"

I can feel my heart sink in my chest. She is still deciding her future, and not necessarily a future with me. "I do not know, Therese. I cannot guess what thoughts he has been entertaining since this peace began." I pause to think a moment. "As I told you, Victor left a journal of his work leading up to my rebirth. He seems taken with the idea that every thought he has must be written down. He's probably assuring that his name will go down in history for his accomplishments. Perhaps you can find his current journals."

_Therese_

"I don't know. Victor does have an office space with his medical books in his library, but I never see him writing things down."

Michael teases me, "There are a lot of things you don't see, but that does not mean they are not happening."

"I have an idea. Thomas will do it for us. I will keep an eye on Victor, and Thomas will not be questioned by anyone if he is looking through Victor's books."

"Can we trust Thomas?" he asks.

I smile at him, "Thomas once asked the same question about you."

He concedes, "All right, if your friend Thomas is willing to help us. The more he knows, the easier it will be to protect you from Victor."

"It's not me I worry about, Michael. He has tried to kill you. He is probably going to try again if he thinks he can keep me here without you."

"Therese, I want you away from here no matter what happens. We cannot help Astrid; she could not leave and survive. I want you to leave with me, or with Thomas is anything should happen to me. Will you promise me that?"

I feel a sadness inside. I want desperately for him to be safe as well. Why can't Victor just leave us alone?

I am not sure of my decisions, but I know he is right. I must leave soon. Every day we delay increases the chance that Victor is scheming to separate us. "I promise, I will get away from Victor."

Michael places a kiss on my forehead, "I love you," he says softly.

My emotions are running high as it is with this talk of danger and leaving. With his simple profession to me, I feel a warmth uncurling inside me. I lean into his arms.

We sit side by side on the edge of the bed. Our lives are not simple. My choice is mine to make, but I feel like the linchpin that keeps the wheel on the wagon. If the pin is pulled, our lives will spiral off, directionless and in dire danger of being destroyed.


	10. Paradise Lost

**A/N **With this chapter, we introduce a new voice….

**Chapter Ten**

_Therese_

Thomas is working harder every day. He experiences some pain, but his toes move and he is capable of getting out of the chair if supported. Victor has two of the men come to support him as he takes small, gliding steps.

Frau Radmacher wanders through giving the men an admonishing look. She is a caring woman, but one look from her stern countenance makes the men jump to attention. "His back must be kept straight," she snaps. The men lean him more upright. Even Thomas attempts to keep his head higher until she passes through.

I can see the beads of sweat glistening on his forehead. After a turn and a walk to the other end of his faltering course, he collapses in his chair. I go to wheel him to his room, giving his hand a squeeze, "Well done, Thomas. You are getting stronger."

In his room he motions to the dresser, "Hand me my writing board, please. I need to send letters. I hope to be out of here by Christmas."

I fetch him his supplies and his board to write on. "Thomas, we will need your help."

_Thomas_

She is speaking softly, as if she fears the walls could carry the tale of her words to Victor. I am alert to her reference to 'we'.

"What is it, lass?"

"Michael says that Victor kept journals while he did his experiments. He believes that even now, Victor may be writing down his plans for us. Will you help me find them?"

"Of course, Therese. But you can barely read; I'll have to read them for you."

She looks at me, and I can see in her eyes her fear. I reach for her hand and smile up at her. "No matter what is in those books, I will forever be your friend, Therese."

I did not realize the horror that I would find on those pages.

_The Demon_

I walk through the woods in the early morning. The light snow makes the grass brittle to snap under my feet. This is a dangerous time for me; my tracks could be picked up and followed. I go once again to check Victor's traps. They lay partially covered by blown snow and leaves, and in one is a poor fox that was in too much of a hurry after a meal.

She is a beautiful creature. In my previous life I might not have taken that view. Her pelt looks silken, and her eyes are bright with intelligence. She makes no noise, but struggles as she senses me approaching. Her poor paw is a ruin, and I wonder if would be more of a mercy to snap her neck. She stills as I lift my hand to her. Perhaps her small brain does not know what to make of my strange eyes either.

I snap open the trap and she makes a clumsy leap out of it. Her paw is a bent, bloody shape now. Perhaps she tried to chew it off in a panic to be free of the pain and the imprisonment. I am unusually fast for a human now that Victor has altered my muscles and joints. I snatch her by the neck, and lift her torso carefully. I speak softly as I examine her paw, and hold her loosely. I pull her into the warmth of my body under my stolen coat. She seems uneasy with this position, her body quivers, but she does not leap about.

We sit for a long time in the quiet morning air. Her ears flick about and her whiskers twitch, reacting to the birds. I am satisfied that although her paw was crushed, it is no longer bleeding. Now that she has warmed herself with me, I relax my hands, and let her go when she chooses. I have nothing in the world to offer her except my hope that she survives. She will be one less innocent snared by Victor.

_Therese_

I wheeled Thomas into the study. We know that Elisabeth is with the children, and the staff is conducting morning rounds with Victor. We select a few books and lay them out on the desk, as if we are searching through them, and then start looking for his journals.

The clock marks the passage of time; each tick seems to portend an approaching discovery as we go through shelves and drawers. Many pieces of furniture are made with secret drawers where jewels or money are kept.

Thomas finally finds three similar books in a space behind a drawer. Pulling one out and flipping through pages, his face lights up, "I've got one."

I move over behind his shoulder. I know my name when it is written in French, but do not know the words that he is reading. I watch him turn pages, and move back towards the door to listen. Thomas is turning pages faster, his eyes study the page. Occasionally he swears in his English words. He is not happy about something. I am watching the door; I jump as I hear a loud snap behind me.

"Damn the man," he says.

"What is it, Thomas?"

His earnest face betrays distaste. "He does not betray his secrets but hints that you will be taken from here."

"Nothing else?"

He sighs and shakes his head, looking down at the blanket across his chair. "I'm sorry, Therese. All we can do is talk to Michael tonight and see what we can do."

He puts the books back in the order he removed them. We take a new book with us. Thomas begins reading it out loud as we go down the hall and away from Victor's journals.

_Thomas_

It is very late, but I have left a light near my window. I sit in my chair facing outside, hoping Michael will come. I have only seen him once, and I do not know if he will trust me enough to come at my behest.

I fell asleep, but wake as the cold outside air brushes me, Michael stands before the open window. There is snow melting on his coat as he comes into the light near me. "I read Victor's journals."

His strange eyes bore into me, his lips set in an expression of distaste. "And what did you find?"

I run a hand over my face. He must see how it is shaking. It isn't fear of him I feel; it is fear for him and Therese. "We cannot talk here," I tell him.

With a curt nod, he turns back to the window, pulling my chair closer. He picks me up easily and maneuvers me through the window, taking me to the abbey.

He carries me easily against him, his steps light in the snow as he strides towards the building. He doesn't even seem to be breathing hard as he gets me inside and carries me up a set of stairs.

He sets me down on a pallet and lights a candle. Around me is a barren space, a few wooden crates take up a small portion of the loft. On one are the candle and two books. In the flickering light, I see that one is _Paradise Lost_.

He tosses his coat aside as he settles himself on the floor in front of me. "Did you tell Therese what you read?"

"No," I can hear the sorrow in my voice. "I thought it better if she doesn't know."

His alien eyes move over my face. In an odd way, it is really the only way you know where he is looking since there is no central pupil. "Go on," he prompts softly.

I start talking, details spilling from my lips from what I remember of Victor's words. I stop occasionally to describe pictures he drew of his work, studies of the body. When I reach the ending of the tale, I can feel the icy terror of what I am to reveal.

I pause for a moment; he is sitting with his hands clasped together. I can see how white his knuckles are. This must be devastating for him.

"Victor hopes to drag out this peace you endure together." My voice is faltering. "He hopes that you will tire of waiting and rape her." As the words leave my lips, I feel unclean. "She is fertile, Michael. And so are you." I take a breath, my stomach clenching as I have to tell him, "He wants whatever child you could get on her."

He throws his head back like a man who is drowning, gasping for air. His body shaking, he leaps to his feet and turns away from me. Hands to his face, I can hear the keening sound that escapes from his lips. He turns and kicks one of the crates; it explodes in a deafening hale of splinters. Head down he paces across the loft, hands clenching.

My greatest fear as I watch him is that I have given him the final reason the kill Victor. If that were to happen now, he truly would be hunted down like an animal. I sit with the wall supporting my back and look at my legs. I can't bear to see the pain he is in. I know he truly loves her, or he would not be so tortured.

"Michael, I plan to be gone from here by Christmas."

He stops, "Take her with you."

"I can book passage for you as well."

He shakes his head violently, and turns towards me. Hands outstretched he kneels down by me. "Look at me," he says through clenched teeth. "I am a monster."

He is frightening. Not just his strange eyes, but the simmering anger that emanates from him. His every move reveals the power of his body, but it is his words that assure me that there is an intelligent man inside. His anguish over Therese also tells me there is a man with a loving heart.

"You can't let her go alone, Michael."

"I have to," he replies softly.

I am getting angry now. "Damn it man, if you send her away she will spend her days wondering what happened to you and blaming herself!"

He sits back and stares at me. His voice is almost dreamy, "It' my fault. I should have done away with Victor. I could have saved all of us if I had done it." He tells me the story as he remembers it; the other man, the creation of the women, Victor's attempt to kill him that led him to kill Curt.

"Merciful Christ," I tilt my head back against the wall. "Victor, what have you done?"

"I only wanted to not be alone."

His voice sounds so forlorn. It is the voice of a man who is giving in. I lift my head, grabbing his arm. Giving it a shake I tell him, "We need a plan, Michael. We may not have any time to spare." I point to his head, "Use that brain he gave you, man. You know him best."

_Michael_

Thomas' face is a portrait of a man who has decided to take up a quest.

"Master Wetherden I have had few gifts in my life, but I think you have just given me hope."


	11. Scraps

Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay

To mould me Man, did I solicit thee

From darkness to promote me?...John Milton, _Paradise Lost_

Chapter Eleven: Scraps

_Victor_

I have had a tedious day. One of my patients is a woman of middle age that complains endlessly about the sanitarium. I placate her once again with promises, and my jaw aches from holding a fictitious smile. The cow should have to suffer the kind of rooms I lived in while performing my experiments to understand what it truly is to be miserable.

Working in solitude, I could trust no one with the knowledge of what I was doing. The professors had spurned my ideas and chastised me for questioning rebirth for the dead. The fools; we live in the self proclaimed age of the enlightenment. How could they not see what an achievement my work would be?

Educated men now toil at the forefront of science. Each day brings discoveries about the true nature of life. We grow closer to eradicating disease. My name should stand at the head of those men. While they toil away in structured communities, I burst forth and wrote my own vision of man. My work should stand as an inspiration.

_Michael_

I read another chapter in my book. This will make the fifth time I have read Milton's work. Paradise Lost is the story of the war of heaven, the revolt of Lucifer and his host of the fallen being cast into the lake of fire. Cursed to suffer in hell, he goes out to beguile Adam and his mate, taking a kind of small revenge upon them.

The first time, I found myself taking the part of Adam, turned out of my Eden for my disobedience. The next time I read it, I was Lucifer. I stood cursing the divine, planning on ways to make mankind suffer for my rejection and lonliness. As I read it this time, I take the part of Michael, archangel and leader of the host against Lucifer. My little wife has innocently given me a role to play along with the name she chose for me.

Victorious warrior, I am the appointed who will bind Satan and cast him down into the pit he has created by his sin of pride.

_Therese_

Thomas is rather subdued today. He tells me he could not sleep very well last night. I am sorry that I have laid my burden at his feet.

Going about my work, Victor has been watching me. This makes me nervous, I start looking behind me as I go out to one of the outer buildings and come back. I peek outside of doors to see if someone else is around. I worry that I will miss something, and someone Victor has hired will take me away.

How long would it take before someone would notice? Would the staff tell anyone? Would Thomas look for me, or assume that I was busy elsewhere? I am chased by shadows, haunted by sounds, and pursued by my own dread.

In the late afternoon I was sent to get the clean sheets and bring them into the main building to stock up the linen closet. The closet was locked, and I had to find Frau Radmacher and tell her that the key seemed to have been misplaced. Leading me to the closet, she lifts her weighty ring of keys from her apron and unlocks the door. I work inside, stacking the shelves when there is a click, and the door closes. Someone turns down the lantern on the shelf, and we are alone in the darkness.

_Thomas_

One of the staff brings me my mail for the day. The papers from London and Paris, several missives from my solicitors and the steward who watches over my property are included. The item I sent for waits in an unopened box.

_Therese_

I stand absolutely still. I try to picture the dimensions of the room. How far is the door? And more importantly, who is between it and me?

"Therese," I hear a whisper.

I swallow, deciding if I should answer. I try to keep my breathing quiet.

"Therese." A light touch skitters over my arm.

I am frightened. More than that, I am angry. Fear brings back to me flashes of the face of the man who stabbed me. His lips twisting into an ugly sneer as he backhanded me. The feeling of how helpless I was against his strength. I cannot stomach the helplessness.

Someone's breath moves tendrils of my hair on my neck. The light touch turns warm against my skin and very soft. The hand travels down my arm, and down to my apron, pushing something inside of the pocket.

Soundlessly the door is opened a crack. A shadow moves between me and the light on the other side. I see her open the door and leave, allowing the door to let in some light.

I rush to the door, wedging my basket in it in case someone tries to close it on me again. My breathing unsteady, my shaking hand turns up the lantern.

_Thomas_

I tell the staff I shall dine in my room. When I give this instruction, it is Therese who usually brings me a tray with a covered plate upon it. Tonight, I am surprised to see Frau Radmacher bringing the tray. I keep my smile in place, but needn't have bothered. The Frau is immune to my charming airs. She is as cool as the plain grey gown she wears. She turns to leave with a stiff nod to me.

Since my accident I spend a lot of time looking at the lives of other people. What kind of life must she have had? I try to picture a happy child, a blushing young woman, a dutiful wife. Were her smiles erased by the burdens of her life, or are they merely subdued by her dedication to her work.

After I dine, Therese finally comes to my room. She looks as if she has witnessed an apparition, her skin looking pale and her eyes bright. I worry that something has happened, "Are you all right?"

With a curt nod she tells me, "I am going over to the abbey tonight."

"Are you sure, lass? It's freezing out there."

"I have to see Michael," she gets up and checks my window. Her movements are agitated.

"Therese," I say rolling forward to grasp her fingers. "I don't think it is a good idea for you to leave the building. It's been snowing; someone might notice the tracks to the abbey." More than noticing the footprints, I worry that someone might be waiting a chance to snare her and remove her from here. I can hope to do nothing from my chair, and Michael has to be careful not to be seen.

She glances outside again, brow furrowed and I know she worries for Michael. "Here," I say, offering her the box. "It's a gift for both of you." She opens it and lifts out the pair of dark tinted spectacles. She rewards me with one of her heart melting smiles.

_Therese_

I take the tray back to the kitchen from Thomas' dinner. I can hardly contain my excitement to meet with Michael and tell him all that has transpired today.

Going towards the hall to my room from the kitchen, Victor steps out and takes my arm. I could resist him, but I don't think causing a scene would be any good for either of us right now. He pulls me closer to him and tells me to follow him to his study.

As we reach the end of the hall, Frau Radmacher steps out of one of the doors. "Therese! I need that hot water!"

I stammer a confused apology. Victor eyes the two of us. She makes a dismissive gesture and walks towards the kitchen, "Come on. I might as well go with you and make sure you bring it this time," she huffs.

I turn and follow her, away from Victor. I will not return to him if I can help it.

Following the Frau, we go to the kitchen and she swings the door closed, her hand braced on the door jamb. She tsks, "Get a pan of water and follow me back."

I nod and go to work. I hardly know what to think of her actions.

"It's enough that he visits Astrid." She gives me a penetrating look, "Stay clear of him, Therese. He's got a wife, let him sleep with her."

I do as she says. Nothing would please me more than to not have to deal with him at all. I follow her to one of the patient's rooms. We give the man a bed bath, and leaving go our separate ways.

Waiting momentarily in the dimmed lights of the hall, I go to my room. Despite Thomas' warning, I grab my patched coat. Stuffing my arms into the coat I move quietly to the doors, and out to the abbey.

_Michael_

From below the loft, I hear the faint movement of the old door. Looking down over the edge, I see it is Therese. I meet her at the stairs, "You shouldn't come out in the cold, Therese."

She smiles, "It's not that far. I'll soon warm up."

We toss her coat over one of the crates in the loft, and I lead her to my pallet. She has food for me; bread with a wedge of cheese and some apples.

"I have something for you. I could have given it to Thomas, but I am sure that you could read it to me." She offers me a small folded piece of paper. The scrap looks to be torn from the corner of a book, the words scrawled in a crabbed hand. One word draws my attention. _Sebastian_.

The French speak of a phenomenon called simply Déjà vu. I get a rapid flash of images. I see my wife's face, her eyes filled with passion. I can feel her body against me, she moans, "Sebastian." Again, my attention is drawn elsewhere; I am addressed by a chorus of voices, a miasma of ghostly faces. I hear the echo of a voice and realize it is Therese who has spoken.

She turns her head a little, the unspoken question in her eyes.

_Therese_

He has the oddest look about him. His fingers loosely hold the scrap of paper I brought to him. His brows are down and his lips are a flat line. "What . . ." The intensity of his eyes as they move to me makes me afraid.

He blinks like a sleeper who is clearing dream cobwebs from their mind. "It's my name," he says in a toneless voice.

I feel as if someone has invaded my stomach with fingers of ice. "What do you mean? Are you saying she knows who you _were_?" I remember her lovely face, the intense look in her eyes as she leaves me behind in the darkened linen closet.

My question snaps him out of his reverie, "Who gave you this?"

His steps pursue me as I back away; his hand is a blur as he snatches my wrist. His anger is like a fierce wind, enveloping me as I step back from him. Grasping my forearms he leans over me, "Who gave you this, Therese?" His voice is like stone grinding against stone.

Once again I am afraid. I feel the anger well up inside me. I twist my arm, trying to pull it out of his grip. I turn my face up to his defiantly, "Let me go, Michael."

He releases my hand. "My name is Sebastian."

My thoughts race, anger still colors my voice, "No it isn't." I turn away from him and wrap my arms around myself. "Remember what you told me, here, not long ago?" Turning back to him, he is looking down his nose at me, an arrogant man I have never met before. "You said we were dead to the world we came from. You said we could never go back."

"You can't," he replies haughtily. "I had a life." His teeth grind, "I had a future."

_Michael_

As my words die in the air between us, I can see the color leaving her face, her mouth turns grim. "How dare you." She sounds as if she is choking on something.

"How dare you speak to me like that!" A look of injured anger suffuses her face. "I'm just some silly village girl, is that it? I got my hands dirty pulling turnips from the ground and feeding the goat. There's no future in that is there except to toil and birth a handful of children. You lived in a house with a wife, and that gives you a future?"

I make a slashing gesture, "I don't care. I want to know who gave you this paper, Therese."

Her look is appraising, "If you cared about anything you'd wonder why they gave it to me."

"Don't be stupid. They gave it to you knowing full well you knew where you could find me."

She stands so still I wonder if she has stopped breathing. Transmuted from flesh to stone the emotion drains from her eyes and I realize that I have hurt her. She is moving away from me. "Stupid," she repeats in a small voice. "Stupid dirty peasant girl."

I advance towards her, but she holds up a hand. "I came here to see Michael, not whoever you are. I don't like you."

Darkness closes at the edges of my vision. I reach out and snare her by the shoulders of her dress and pick her up. One of her hands closes on my wrist. A whirling storm of angry voices say my name. "Michael," her soft voice startles me. I realize what I am doing, and set her down on her feet slowly.

My hands smooth the shoulders of her dress down, descending over the soft swelling of her breast. I look at the scars that manacle one part of me to the other. "Oh, God."

I step to embrace her body and lift her in my arms. Retreating to my pallet, I lean my body against the wall and ease us down. Like the fox in the trap, she quivers under my hands. I hold her to me hoping the warmth of my ugly frame can once again warm her heart towards me.

"I'm sorry, Therese. I'm sorry."

_Therese_

I don't know which one of us is shaking harder. For my part it is relief which took hold as I saw the change in his eyes when I said his name. Whoever he thought he was, he had the presence of mind to recall who he is now.

"Why…Why did she do it?"

It takes him several tries to find his voice. He holds me so gently, and turns his face into my hair. "Who Therese?"


	12. Never

**A/N:** **This chapter is definitely an 'M' rating. You have been warned.** Thanks so much for your wonderfull reviews. Hey, dominike, where's my cookie?

Chapter Twelve: Never

_Michael_

"It was Astrid." She says softly. She pulls back from me to look at me. "I heard her reading to Herr Dirnneg in Austrian. Can she write as well?"

"This is all quite unexpected." I look at Therese. In her eyes I see reflected the man she is counting on to sort out this mystery.

She looks away from me for a moment, plucking something on her skirt. "What did Thomas tell you?"

"Thomas was understandably shocked by Victor's notes. I will not lie to you, Therese. Victor writes that he has designs for you." I walk the fine line at the edge of truth. "But," I add, "Thomas said something to me as we parted. He said I was the one who knew Victor the best. And knowing him as I do, from our pursuits and his journal, I have serious doubts that what Victor put in them is the truth."

"What do you mean? That he lied about all of his work?"

"He did not lie in the beginning. His journal from my creation was accurate I believe. But the books that you just found might have purposely been altered." Therese is not as experienced with Victor. She sees a glimmer of what I am hinting at I believe.

"Since you and I have been together, it would be reasonable for him to see that you might try to find his most recent work. I believe that he wrote his last entries with the thought of misdirecting us."

"There is another possibility, someone else knows about the journals. The same person might be the one who gave Astrid the paper with my name, for I have a difficult time believing she knows anything."

_Therese_

"Shall I ask Astrid what she knows?" Talking to Astrid is like trying to catch a bird in a bucket. Her reasoning flits nimbly from one point to another. It can take her an hour to reply to a question you ask her.

"Yes. I want to take you back to the sanitarium. Tomorrow tell Thomas what has happened, and see if you can talk to Astrid. I'll take you back to your room. It's too cold here for you."

He extinguishes the candles and guides me down the stairs. The cold air hits me as we leave the Abbey. The moon is a crescent, lying on its side like a bowl about to spill. What little snow remains is blown across the grass, hardened into an icy crust. We walk along the edge of the trees to cover our tracks.

He sees me to my window, and helps me climb inside. "Come in," I tell him. I leave him to check the hallway and lock my door. As always, he sits at the foot of my bed and waits for me. I glance at my clock, "It's still early." I hang my coat on a peg on the wall and slip out of my cold shoes.

"Here," he says motioning for me to sit on the bed. He reaches down and takes one of my feet in his hands, rubbing it to bring the warmth back. As we sit in the light of my one small lamp, I begin to feel warm all over.

"Something happened tonight," I say to him, he looks steadily at me. "You were someone else for a while, weren't you?"

"Yes," he admits. "I'm sorry," he stops rubbing my foot; his hand cradles it like a warm living slipper. "Do you trust me, Therese?"

I nod in reply, my voice would shatter under the sudden weight of the emotions I feel. I do trust him. Even though he lost his temper this evening, I feel he would never hurt me. I clear my throat, and speak, "I think I understand how upset you were when things started coming back to you."

He shakes his head vehemently, "That is no excuse for how I treated you. I would never hurt you."

"I know he made you strong, Michael." He starts to interrupt me but I put a finger to his lips, "I know you have been trying to stop the anger. That is what is the most important, that you recognize it and are trying to stop it."

We sit together for a time. "I feel as if you aren't telling me something," I say. "You won't say it will you?"

"Say what?"

"Say that it is time for me to decide." He says nothing as he looks at me. Bless him, he has given me as much time as we both can afford to wait. I don't want to wait anymore. One thing stands between us. "Do you wish to be that man again?"

"No, that life is gone. Even if I were to try to recapture the place I held in that world, I would not be accepted." He spreads his hands, a gesture releasing his hold on something to let it float away.

How can you forget a glimpse of happiness? Can years of living be eradicated by a willful decision? What titanic act will forever close the door against the memory of loving someone? As I glimpsed the specter of the man he once was, my heart realized the loss of my Michael. To my way of thinking, I know how I can keep him.

_Michael_

She leans into me. Her hand on my thigh, her lips come to mine. I love the way she kisses me, but this time she surprises me by pushing her tongue into my mouth. This gentle invasion makes my blood catch fire.

"Say it," she whispers. Her soft lips brush mine.

My mind empties; I can feel my heart hammering inside my chest. She is lingering close to me and I feel her fingers lightly stroke my neck to find the end of my scar and follow it down through the material of my shirt. Her soft breath moves over my cheek as she raises her face and rubs her nose against mine.

I find her lips and begin a deep kiss; my fingers trace the sinuous line of her spine from her waist up to her neck. I feel tendrils of her hair dropping over my hands, and I realize she has taken the combs out, letting it fall.

Her hands reach behind me, into my hair and she breaks the kiss. She shifts her body, moving her thighs to either side of mine she slides onto my lap. I run my hands down to her waist as she leans back a little from me. "Ask me," she sighs.

Looking at her, she must see the question in my eyes. She kisses me again, her hands working as she does. She pulls back again, and the top of her dress is open. I watch my hand push it off of her shoulders, following it down her slim arms. The light around us highlights her smooth neck, the delicate lines of her collar bones and shades the undersides of her breasts.

My hands move over her. I wish I could sink into her, pull her around me like some warm, comforting blanket and stay this way forever. She moves back, her hands lift my face. I cannot say it. I cannot condemn her to a life with a thing like me. I don't want her to subject herself to my ugliness.

"Michael," she says. Her eyes shine in the light she looks like something from heaven, bright and pure. She holds my face, her thumb brushes the scar as she looks at me. "The man is supposed to ask…" She flashes a brief smile at me.

She kisses me quickly, hard against my lips. "I, Therese," she brushes my lips again, "Take thee, Michael."

I close my eyes. It is hard to breathe, hard to think, I can only wait for her next words.

"To be my husband…"

In that instant, I remember the power of the lightning. The immense power of its touch pales to the bolt of emotion that strikes me now. "Wife…"

My hands grasp her, move over her. I don't know whose hands are doing what, but my shirt is open and I am tugging off her chemise. I lower my head to kiss her neck, and I feel her hands pull my shirt out of my pants. She traces my scar up my torso and I capture her hand as it reaches my neck. Kissing her palm, I feel her tugging the hand away. Her fingers close on mine and she pulls my hand down to the soft peak of her breast.

I am a man loosing myself in the ever deepening well of passion. "Therese." Her eyes are glazed as she looks at me, her lips softly parted. "I will not be able to stop."

She smiles and her hands knead my shoulders, "I don't want you to."

I turn her, following her body down to the bed, my mouth tracing a line down her from chin to her stomach. I pull back long enough to help her out of the rest of her clothes, relishing the soft body that waits for me underneath.

_Therese_

He lies down next to me. He is so warm, his flesh feels like fire. His tongue finds my ear and I squirm. His hot breath traces over my shoulder as his hands grasp my hips. I brush my nails down his ribs to his pants; I slide a hand inside and find him ready for me. I wrap my hand around him and am rewarded with a moan from deep in his throat.

He leaves me for a moment to remove his pants and I get a look at the _sword _he is blessed with. I brush my fingertips over him and he grabs my hand, guiding me. We play for a moment and then he moves over me. I am so hungry for this I am nearly frantic, he is deliciously hot as he lowers his body to mine.

With greedy hands, I move to guide him. The feel of him is exquisite. I lose myself in this joining. We begin our mating with long, smooth strokes until our passion builds. I feel myself surrendering to the sensations he is eliciting from me. I roll my hips a little and fall into wave upon wave of ecstasy. I let my body rock with his as he moves deeper and more determinedly. I can feel him draw in a deep shuddering breath and he lets go of his control and completes our act of love.

We lie together panting. He moves to my side. My eyes are closed, but I can feel him looking at me.

_Michael_

She smiles lazily. There are small tendrils of hair curled near her neck. I brush one aside, staring at it as it curls around my finger. She is so beautiful. She has offered me the most precious gift and I am a man once again. I am transformed to something beyond this untidy heap of flesh and bone. Now I am a man, a husband, a lover, a protector.

Moving a hand to her stomach I wonder if what is in Victor's journal about us is remotely true. Is there another being even now between us? "I love you," I plant a kiss on her temple.

She joins her hand to mine. "I love you." Wrapping her in the sheet, I hold her as we drift off to sleep.

I sleep fitfully, my dreams are chaotic. I walk the sanitarium. The doors all swing open as I pass. From somewhere I hear the crying of a child. Searching the rooms, I pass like a ghost, glancing at the sleeping people as I search.

I come to the north room, the door is closed, but a tongue like fire slides along the floor from under the frame. I reach for the handle; it is hot under my palm. Grasping it quickly, I snatch it open. A burst of hot air flings the door towards me as I stagger back. The searing heat pulls the air from my lungs and I gasp.

Inside the room is a vision of hell. Smoke unfurls along the ceiling, fires flare along the walls. Suspended above the table are the two spheres. From them an ominous hum emits; the sound sets my teeth on edge as I take a step into the room.

There is something lying on the table. Along its form, long metal pins stand, pinning it down like a captured butterfly. I see blood coursing down the legs of the table; my stomach revolts at the smell. I want to back out of the room, but I hear the piteous cry of the child.

I know this is a dream, but I am still torn between leaving and finding the source of the cry. I do not want to see what is on the table. I look at the floor as I advance. My foot slides in the blood and I must make a grab for the edge of the table to keep from losing my footing. The table is hot and sticky. I feel things under my fingers; ropes of flesh and strings of wet soft objects that smell awful. The bile in my stomach creeps up my throat as my hand rests on a hand. It is cool to the touch, the fingers clenched into stiff claws.

I hear the whimper again, and turn to look.

The thing lying on the table is a mass of torn flesh. Exposed organs quiver wetly under the light that pulses from the spheres. A bolt of lightning slams into the room, I cover my ears quickly with my bloody hands. Sparks explode off the spheres above me creating a hail of stinging needles that burn where they fall on me. Their path around me sheds light on the unmoving figure. The bones in it gleam white like grinning teeth.

Cradled in the lower body is a sack that moves. Inside it I see the shape of the baby. It writhes; arms appear to push against the sack. I fear the small thing is trapped, using one of the pins from the body; I prick the edge of the sack. The baby's head pops through, its gasping mouth sucking in air.

I push the soft bloody womb off of the child, and lift it out. It is still attached to its mother by the cord. I use the pin again to rake over the flesh until the cord drops away.

I cradle the poor tiny thing against my shoulder, moving towards the door. I am jerked to a stop when I glance down into the open eyes of the flayed body on the table. The eyes are blue.

"Oh Christ." I jerk awake. Looking about the room, I am still with Therese. She lays breathing lightly in her sleep. I lay my head down again and pull her closer to me. "Never," I swear softly to the darkness. I would willfully murder every living person in this building than allow this to happen to my wife and child.

Victor may kill me. The darkness of death holds no mystery for me. But I would rather send my own soul to hell than allow him to hurt Therese. She did not ask to become a part of this tale; she is here because I found her.

_Therese_

I wake a number of times during the night. I am not used to having someone with me. The weight of his body creates a low spot in the mattress of the bed, and I have rolled into it. Snuggled up against him I feel warm and safe.

Sometime near dawn I feel him pull my body close to his. The hair on his chest tickles my nose. I lift a hand, lightly running my fingers along the scar that nearly cuts his torso in half. Lower, I caress him and his body responds quickly, preparing for me.

_Michael_

We have made love, but I am a man and I want more. Pushing aside the sheet, I roll her onto her back. Once again we perform the most intimate of dances between a man and a woman.


	13. Father

Chapter Thirteen: Father

_Therese_

It is nearly noon, and I volunteer to go get Herr Dirnegg for his lunch. He sits in his room near the fireplace. Entering, his eyes are closed and on his bed sits Astrid. She leans against the footboard listening to him talk to her. His baritone is a smooth sound against the crackle of the fireplace.

He smiles and invites me in, switching to French so that I can understand him. I ask if he wishes to go to the dinning room or if I should bring a tray to him. "I shall join the others at table," he tells me. Walking towards the door he lays a hand on Astrid's shoulder, speaking to her in his guttural Austrian. She glances at me and nods. He retires, closing the door softly behind him.

"Astrid," I sit near her, "why did you give me that piece of paper?"

She reaches up and coils a finger in a curl of her dark hair. Refusing to look at me she mumbles, "I have a new Father now. I don't need my old Father."

"What do you mean, Astrid? Who is Father?"

She seems to shrink in on herself. Her voice is tremulous, "Victor was my Father."

I am disgusted to think of Victor telling her he is her Father, unless he was trying to explain her creation to her. I cannot imagine why he would try. Her childish prattle might reveal their secret. I wish Thomas was here with me, or failing that even Michael. I am not sure what she is implying. "Victor was Father? Did he tell you he was your father?"

The crescent of a smile appears on her face. "No, Therese," she exaggerates her words like a child. She twirls her hand in the folds of her skirt. "Father comes in the night for me. Father always tucks me in and kisses Astrid goodnight."

I wonder if this is some childish fantasy she has created, but something presses at the back of my mind. I played as a child with one of the neighbor children who told me her Father gave her kisses. As we aged, the girl was sent away. The old wives in the village said she was carrying her Father's get. I did not understand until I was older that they meant her father had gotten her pregnant.

A wave of pity fills me as I look at her. This must be a memory from her life. Is that why Victor moved into her bed with such ease, because she had grown to a woman whose own father had used her body?

I reach in my apron for my handkerchief; my eyes are threatening to spill over with tears. The life of a woman is hard to endure. The years age us quickly through toil and childbirth. We have little recourse in life be to leave our families and marry, submitting our lives to the man we wed. Our shoulders grow stooped by the weight of strife and death. Astrid's perfect face and her pretty gowns were all I saw when I looked upon her. My envy turned her into a useless and frivolous woman, when my eyes should have seen another of my kind who was a prisoner to the whims of the world around her.

Whoever her Father was, I hope his soul burns in hell. His peers might have seen a man of moral fiber and sound judgment. His daughter saw him as a shadowy shape stealing into her bed, telling her to be a good little girl for Father.

I blow my nose and smile at her, "I'm so glad you have a new Father."

She shakes her head and says 'no' as she always does, then shyly smiles at me and hugs me.

"Do you know who Sebastian is?"

She shakes her head again, but this time does not refute her answer, so she must not know. "Did someone give you that piece of paper Astrid? The one you put in my apron pocket?"

She screws up her mouth, and looks at me sidelong. "Ask Father."

I prompt her to continue to talk to me, but she withdraws into her own world. I suddenly feel frustrated. Which Father? Victor? I cannot ask him-he has no reason to point out who Michael was. Indeed, such a revelation might have condemned him to death if Michael had not come back to himself at my prompting. But, she does say she has a new Father.

I wait with Astrid until the Herr returns. He seats himself before the fire again, bestowing a gentle smile on Astrid as he passes. Astrid gives my shoulder a pat, "Therese wants to know about the paper."

Herr Dirnegg looks at her, "Go watch the hall. We don't want ears to hear the story, Astrid." She rises gracefully from the bed and cracks the door open, keeping watch.

I turn to the Herr, and he waves me towards the foot of the bed. Sitting in Astrid's place, I listen to the story.

_Michael_

I moved from the Abbey to the stables, and on to the small washing hut. Listening to the idle talk that fills people's days, I wonder why I desire so badly to be part of their world. If it is not a wife complaining of a husband, it is a servant disparaging a master.

I listen for snippets of information about the goings on in the village. Any new visitors passing through might indicate men Victor has sent for. What I get for my efforts is nothing more than a few hours of watching my warm breath stream in the winter air and a cold backside from sitting next to the building.

The women leave the washing hut, cackling like chickens with their baskets loaded with linens, their feet crunching in the snow. I slip towards the forest using all the noise they are making to cover my retreat.

Stalking through the dense undergrowth around the old giant trees, I return to a spot where a stump had fallen over, creating a den under its gnarled roots. Places like this are where I have hidden things. If I am to spirit away Therese, time will be our enemy. I need to gather what items I can that we can carry easily.

There is a cave in the glacier on the mountain side that I could take her to. It is well hidden so that we could burn a fire without fear of being revealed. But I worry that she is not as robust as I am. I left some furs behind there in case I might need them when I returned. Also a coat I made from stolen blankets. Some nights I would sit in the cold and wonder what one of the villagers would think of a giant foraging the land in what might have been the blanket from their bed. What a ridiculous figure I would have presented.

Victor has never been up the mountainside. Few of the village people do. There are farmers who live up in the high pastures who work to keep the passes clear for the use of travelers and traders. Avalanches and ice falls are always a fear. There is also the superstitious belief that spirits and demons live near the high mountain tops. To anger the demons is to temp disaster. For six years I have been the only demon they have needed to fear.

_Victor_

I did not get a chance to talk to Therese last night. As I hear it now, Thomas has purchased passage by train on the twelfth of December. That only gives me two weeks.

I return to my home at lunch time. The children are busy chatting and eating their food while the cook starts preparing baking apples with cinnamon and butter. Glancing in the sitting room, I only find the wet nurse with the baby. "Where is my wife?"

The woman glances up from some sewing she has brought with her. "I don't know, sir. I thought she was eating with the children."

I feel the world falling away, her voice growing distant. My God. That devil has taken her already. I search the rooms once again, checking the conservatory and stopping people in the halls. Glancing outside, I see foot prints towards the stable and go out.

Heedless of the freezing air I question the stable hands. None of them have seen her. I can think of only one person who might know. Turning back to the sanitarium, I search for Therese.

_Therese_

Astrid quickly closes the door, speaking in Austrain to the Herr. His eyes bore into mine. As a knock sounds sharply against the door, Astrid opens it.

Victor steps in. "I must apologize for this intrusion, Herr Dirnegg, but I have something for Therese to do." He glances at me intently. His eyes dare me to refute his wishes.

"Yes, sir," I reply keeping my tone businesslike. "Thank you so much for the conversation, Herr Dirnegg." I smile at him as I turn away. Victor is by the door. I can see his knuckles are white on the doorknob.

I step smartly through the open portal, hoping to keep a distance from him, but he grabs my elbow and steers me down the hall. Muttering under his breath, I catch bits of curses from him. I fear something has happened.

He flings open the door to the north room, pushing me inside and locking it behind him. "Where is she?"

"Who?"

"Elisabeth," he grinds out. "He's taken her hasn't he?" He grabs my arm, his strength driven by his fear he is hurting me. I clamp my mouth shut rather than cry out. "Where is she?" He shouts in my face.

"Victor, he hasn't taken her. She has to be here somewhere." I keep my voice level, my eyes blank. I have not seen him this upset before.

"Why are you so sure he hasn't taken her?" He looks at me and drops my arm like it has burned his hand. "You've accepted him haven't you?" He steps back looking at me, his revulsion etched in the set of his mouth.

"Yes, Victor, I have."

"How could you?" He looks at me as if I told him I was betraying him.

"He only wants what any human being wants."

"He isn't human!"

I flinch at his shout, and cast a glance at the door. "Not here, Victor. You don't want everyone to know do you?"

His shoulders relax, but he looks down his nose at me. "I thought you had better sense than to let that vile wretch near you. Has he bedded you yet?" He makes a disgusted noise, "Never mind. I can get rid of anything he impregnates you with."

I remember this morning, Michael's hand on my stomach. Did he know that he might be able to father a child? I stupidly realize that that was the last thought in my mind. I only knew that I wanted to love him and keep him with me. I am oddly filled with a sense of peace.

"Victor," I hear my level voice, "if you touch me I'll kill you." My words bring him up short, surprise registers on his face. "Isn't this what you wanted? To provide him with a mate and have us leave you in peace?"

His eyes seem to glaze. He looks through me as he replies, "Yes. I did didn't I?"

He is between me and the door, this doesn't make me comfortable even with this change in his demeanor. "We'll leave soon. It will be all over for you."

"All over." He seems on the verge of being overcome by this.

"Come on. I'll help you find Elisabeth."

He backs towards the door, pulling the key out of his vest.

_Victor_

I find her at last. "Elisabeth, where were you at noon?"

Her brows knit as she looks at me, "I went to the kitchens, and to check on Albert, and then I went to drop off a dress at Therese's room, but she wasn't there. She must have been with one of the patients." Her beautiful eyes smile at me.

I wish I had never gone to the university. I wish I would have listened to my professors. If I had I would not have put her in this danger. "I love you." I pull her into my arms, her softness, my sanctuary. "Come to bed with me."

"It's still early. The children have just finished their dinner."

"The nurse will take care of them." My temper flares. It has been a month since Albert's birth. We should be able to resume our lovemaking. "Unless you are too busy for your husband."

The smile leaves her eyes. "I'm not the one who leaves in the middle of the night."

"I have trouble sleeping, you know that!" My rest has been elusive since the night that wretch took his first gasping breath.

Would to God I had the strength to smoother him as he lay helpless. My slavish dedication to his birth died as his eyes slitted open. Those empty spheres turned in my direction as I staggered back from the table. My hand scrambled behind me, the lever, the lever would allow the next bolt to strike him again. The power of the electrical storm would seer his brain and heart; he'd expire swiftly as his organs would burst from the heat built by the lightning strike. But I didn't reach it. With a sudden jerk his arm was free of the restraints, the eyes drank me in. He turned on the table, the contact between us a lure for him to reach for.

I fled; a headlong mad rush away from him. I'd been running ever since.

"Victor." She looks at me with disgust. "You don't leave our bed for _sleep_."

She attempts to turn from me, but I snare her arm and drag her to our bedroom. She is angry with me, and has every right to be. Astrid is nothing to me, only a convenient warm body. It is only Elisabeth that I have ever loved. It is only her that I wish to protect. "Come away with me," I hold her gently, "we'll go to that chalet where we honeymooned. Just you and I."

She seems reticent. "I don't want any more children." She admits.

"I can take care of that, my love." I had hoped she felt that way. Losing her would kill me.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen: An Old Friend

_Michael_

The darkness descends again. I wait in the loft of the abbey, peering to see whose lights are left lit. Therese's light goes out, then the one in Thomas' room. I see a light farther down the row, and see Therese in the window. Going out into the cold I stand in the dim light where she can see me, she motions me forward, opening the window for me.

Trepidation slows my steps; I do not want to be revealed to anyone. It was only my concern for Therese the evening of Ragache's attack that forced me to meet with Thomas. I pray to God that whoever resides in this room will receive me as well as Thomas did.

Climbing through the window, I see several lamps turned down low. Therese takes my hand and gives me a swift kiss as I straighten up. She pulls me towards the gentleman sitting at the fireside. He stands and gazes at me. There is a look of sorrow on his face. Extending a hand forward, he speaks, "Sebastian Jaeger."

With a shock I recognize him as well, "Rainer Dirnegg?" My hand reaches forward to clasp his. My mind is a flurry of images and memories of this man. "We were professors at Ingoldstadt."

"Yes." He returns to his seat and I join Therese on the bed. "I gave the paper to Astrid to give to Therese. Once I heard what was happening, I had to find you," he pauses. There is a soft knock at the door and Therese goes to open it. Thomas rolls into the room. Therese pushes his chair forward closer to us.

Herr Dirnegg begins in his deep voice, "Victor Frankenstein came to the university eleven years ago. Professor Waldman was assigned to be his advisor. I was his anatomy teacher, and Sebastian was teaching chemistry at the time."

"Victor was a very bright young man, full of ideas and questioning everything before him. Waldman was hard pressed to keep him challenged by his studies, and then he began to drift away from us. It began subtly, but then became frighteningly evident in how his health began to deteriorate. Waldman attempted to draw him out. He notified the board and we were all alerted to ask questions of other students about Victor's activities once he left his classes.

"No one seemed to know how he spent his time. He left the university and secluded himself in his rooms according to what we knew. Waldman attempted to visit him, but was turned away by Victor's claim that he was heavily engaged in research for his other classes.

"When we finally challenged him about his activities in a closed meeting with one of the deans, he admitted that he was pursuing his own line of experiments. The dean told him that sort of thing was generally left to the higher classmen, not the newest students. "Victor rebelled, claiming we were attempting to steal his research. It was at that point we notified his family that he might be making himself ill. Indeed, he exhibited signs of paranoia, and acute stress. Waldman was distressed at how physically wasted he had become. He was losing weight and his complexion looked unhealthy.

"The family sent one of his friends, Henry Clerval to visit with Victor. That proved to be a fatal mistake."

"It began before that," I add. My memories falling into place, "We had several arguments that lead to his being disciplined by the deans."

"I'm afraid what happened will never be fully revealed, but in short, Clerval is the one who seduced Sebastian's wife, Constanza."

_Therese_

I had not heard this part of the story. "My God. Did he set Clerval on her on purpose? Was it some sort of …"

"Revenge?" Michael states flatly. "His friend and my wife," he looks at Thomas, "I murdered them both when I found them." I hold his hand; I could weep for the man he was.

Herr Dirnegg nods, "He ruined your life, and then brought you forth from death."

"To continue ruining," Michael grates out. Turning to me, hatred harshens his features.

"You aren't that man anymore," I tell him. His expression softens as I mouth,_ I__love you_.

_Thomas_

"What now? Does Victor recognize you Herr Dirnegg?"

"He does not seem to. It was years ago," he indicates his countenance, "and I am much changed."

I look at Michael, "I have a plan to get you out of here."

"I go where my husband goes," Therese adds.

"That might not be possible, Therese," Michael tells her. I can see the concern for her in his face. "I can survive the cold, but it will not go well for you."

A look of panic crosses her face. "Michael you aren't going to stay are you? What's done is too far in the past to take any revenge for."

Herr Dirnegg interjects, "I have come to keep an eye on Victor. Astrid will be the remaining proof of his work. Also, we have found where he put Curt's body. If he attempts to follow you, I will sign the certificate to have him committed."

_Michael_

"You say 'we', who else knows?"

"Elisabeth," he answers.

I am stunned. "Elisabeth knows of my existence?"

"Victor keeps journals-Elisabeth found them. She alerted me after Curt disappeared." He pauses and elaborates for Therese and Thomas. "You see after Victor finished his work," he indicates me, "he fell ill. Elisabeth and his Father came to retrieve him. He suffered from exhaustion and pneumonia and was delirious for quite some time. Once he was well he finished at the school and came here with Curt in tow. Then Astrid appeared, and Curt just vanished."

My head feels as if it will burst. I have believed for so long that my solitary existence was unknown. There have been so many revelations and emotional upheavals in the last days; I wonder how I will survive all of this. Feeling the soft hand of my wife in mine helps me more than she will ever know.

"You must leave," Herr Dirnegg says. "I am sorry that we have had such a short time together," he pauses glancing at Therese, "Michael."

I shake hands with him. "Thank you, Rainer."

His hand grips mine, harder. "Thank me in your first letter once you are free of this place."

I understand his unspoken worries. Until Therese and I are far from Victor, neither of us is safe. I tell Therese to take Thomas to his room, that I will join them there.

Rainer Dirnegg stands, shoulders slightly stooped. His hair was dark as I recall him. It is now nearly white. "I understand you have the consumption."

"Yes. This will be where I will be buried. I'll take care of Astrid. Victor should never…"

"Victor should have stopped after I was born." Before this man, who remembers me as the man I was, I feel ashamed. "All of this is because of me."

"No. All of this is because Victor denies everything. Like a spoiled child, he refuses to accept that there are repercussions for his actions. You asked for a companion, you asked for no more than any other man ever would. That is why Elisabeth sent for me. She has seen how his mental process is breaking down by his journal entries. She hoped you would go away and leave Victor to us. She fears you, Michael."

A year ago, she should have. But I took my future in my hands and decided to return to the humanity that Victor denied me. I slowly let go of the jealous hatred I held for them, and bid my time waiting for my wife. "I told Victor I'd kill her." A pained surprise registers in his eyes. "For years I only knew I was a murderer. Like any child I listened to my parent and became what he told me I was."

"But you have this under control?"

"The rage is a demon unto itself. I will be fighting to harness it for years. But I have my wife now."

"Be careful, Michael. She cannot be your conscience."

"No, she can't. But her love gives me so much. I am a man again, not a demon." We are quiet for a moment and I step forward, "Do you wish to know what waits on the other side?" He must, it is a fear that all men carry.

His eyes become glassy with unshed tears. I place a hand on his shoulder, and whisper in his ear.

_Thomas_

While we wait for Michael I ask Therese, "So how was it?"

She looks away from me and blushes, "Thomas!"

I laugh and grab her hand, "I'm just teasing you, lass. Really, I'm happy for you both." She giggles and still blushes. It is wonderful to make her laugh; her days ahead will not be so easy.

Michael arrives, and I have Therese bring me the envelope on my dresser. "I wrote out the days and destinations of my trip. I plan to take a train from Geneva on the twelfth. From there I'll be traveling across France to Le Havre where I'll catch a ferry to England." I give a copy to Michael, I know he can read.

"I think it would be best if the two of you leave unexpectedly. If you slip away you will have a lead on Victor." I hold up a hand, and add, "Whatever route you take, I don't want to know, nor should anyone else. I've left enough days between the destinations in France that you can catch up to me and we can continue by train. Here is some money to get you started," I hand Michael the envelope."

They sit side by side, Therese holds his hand. "Thomas has something else for you," she tells him.

She goes to the dresser and brings the spectacles over to him. Taking them gingerly in his hands, he opens them and slides them over his eyes. I tell him,"I bought them from a man who makes them for the blind. The lenses are extra dark." He looks around the room, and at Therese who is smiling.

"Can you see my eyes," he asks.

"Not at all," I reply. "Now all you need is a white cane, and your loving wife to lead you to the train."

_Therese_

The rest of the night is ours. We go to my room and lock the door. From behind me, his hands move over me and he kisses my neck. I lean back against him, letting the fierce fire from his mouth kindle my own.

He turns me and leads me towards the bed. As the back of my legs brush against it, he lifts me back onto it, and kneels before me. His hands move up my thighs and he pulls aside my underclothing, sliding his fingers over me.

_Michael_

She gasps and I plunge my tongue into her mouth. I am so ready for this I can barely slow down. I flip her skirt out of the way and free myself, moving between her thighs, pulling her soft body down to mine. She braces herself on one arm, the other around my neck and moans into my mouth.

Raising her knees, her silken thighs wrap around my body. "More," her soft voice calls to me. I gladly give my wife what she asks for. Switching rhythm, she cries out, and relaxes back onto the bed. Grasping her waist, I fill her completely.

We collapse on the bed, spent. My head rests on her stomach until her hands circle around my neck. She sits up, and I slowly undress her. A supplicant before an altar, I worship every inch of her flesh with my mouth. She is everything woman and I am completely hers.

_Therese_

I could not have asked for a better lover than this man. Languid, I lie under his ministering hands and kisses until I can endure it no more. I want his passion again and show him.

We lie together later. "We will go to France?"

"Not by the same route as Thomas."

"But we will go with Thomas to England?" I look up into his eyes.

"We will go to England if it makes my wife happy," he replies lightly. "You should start gathering things up you could carry with you."

"We aren't leaving on the train?"

He smoothes a hand over my cheek, and kisses my forehead. "We need to be able to move quickly. They may think they watch over Victor, but I know he doesn't sleep. As Thomas said, it is better is we slip out.


	15. Assassin

Chapter Fifteen: Assassin

_Victor_

Working at my desk, I glance at the clock. Everyone should be in their rooms for the evening. I still have enough time to get to town.

I go to the stable and saddle one of the horses. An older gelding, he protests sleepily, but resigns himself to plodding down the dark road. He fusses at the bit, tossing his head. If it were daylight, I'd get down and whip him. Obstinate creature.

I arrive at the house and see a light still glows inside one of the rooms. Knocking lightly, I step in and go to the sitting room.

"I wondered when you were coming back." Edgar Ragache sits behind his desk, a half empty bottle of liquor in front of him.

"You know I don't want to be followed." The man is an imbecile. "Is he here yet?"

"Yes, he's at the village inn," he replies tiredly.

"Good. We need to move swiftly. There are so many gossips around the village that news will reach the sanitarium."

"What's the matter Herr Frankenstein? Afraid you'll tarnish your reputation if they find you've hired a killer?" He laughs dryly. His own reputation ruined by his attack on Therese and Astrid, he revels in the thought that mine will be blemished as well.

I stride forward and slam my fists down on his desk. The bottle nearly topples, and his surprised eyes peer at me. "Edgar, there are lives at stake here. I want this man hunted down and destroyed. If I don't get him first, he won't stop until he's wiped out my family."

He attempts to sit up straighter. I think the stupid ape is finally listening to what I have to say. "Alright," he holds up hands to placate me. "When do I tell him to start?"

"I'll tell him. What is his name?"

"Claude Brettelle."

I turn away, but his voice stops me at the door, "Don't forget our bargain, Victor. I provide your assassin and you provide my poor cousin Thomas."

"Just keep out of sight until I tell you." I slam the door on my way out.

Being anywhere near that sad excuse for a man makes my flesh crawl. It is bad enough I must rely upon him for this. Once this is all over, I'll have my marksman take care of Ragache after he puts a bullet through that demon's brain.

I'll win at last, you monster.

_Michael_

I watch Victor leave. The light is still on in the house. Going slowly through the door, I listen. I could hear Victor's voice from beyond the wall, so I doubt there is any else in the house. I enter slowly through the door.

Edgar Ragache is just reaching for his glass. "What now, Victor?" The bored look on his face dies and his eyes widen. He knocks over the bottle on the desk as he tries to pull back the desk drawer.

Swifter than a man, I take three strides and shove him over backwards in his chair. He tumbles, and tries to scramble away from me. I grab a hold of his coat front and lift him by it. His hands flail at me and one strikes me across the face. For that, I shove him into the wall behind him, and the plaster cracks behind his back.

His eyes are even larger; he now holds his hands up in front of his face as if he could ward me off. "What's the matter Ragache," I ask. "Hasn't Victor told you about me?"

He swallows heavily and shakes his head. "What are you?"

I smile and it must be quite nasty to behold, for he wets himself. I let him down and he lunges for the drawer again. I casually reach across the desk and pulling on the drawer, pin his hand inside. With my face close enough that our noses could touch I tell him, "I'm the man Victor hopes to kill."

Grasping his wrist none too gently, I pull him towards a chair and give him a shove onto it. "Explain to me Victor's plans."

"Are you going to kill me?"

I sit on the corner of the desk and look at him. "I'm not a killer." I take off my coat and toss it on the desk. Pulling off my shirt, I let him see the larger of my scars. "This is what Victor did to me after I died."

His mouth has gone slack, and his eyes follow the large scar down my torso. He stops to look at my scared hand. I reach out and snatch his chin; he emits a mewling noise as I turn his eyes up to mine. "Talk."

"He sent for a man, he's at the inn right now." He avoids my eyes as he speaks, like a whipped dog. "He was an army marksman."

I let a half laugh escape my lips. "Victor's getting smarter, which means he is more desperate than ever." I look at the man before me. "I don't want to see your face again. Do you understand me?"

He shakes his head vigorously, shying away from me as I stand and put my shirt on. As my arm slides through my coat, I point a finger at him and he flinches. "This is for hurting Therese." I backhand him just hard enough to knock him out.

Leaving, I hurry back to the sanitarium.

_Therese_

I hear Michael's voice. A cold hand rubs my arm and startles me awake. I see him standing over me in his coat.

"Get up, Therese. We must leave now." His voice is urgent.

I pour the cold water from the jug on my dresser in to the basin, and wash hurriedly. My haste makes my hands shake as I put on layers of clothing as Michael has instructed me to. After shoving my feet into thick socks, I pull out the leather boots that I hid under my bed. Michael stole them from someone for me. I regret the theft, but these boots will carry me across the mountains.

_Thomas_

I am almost ready to retire when I hear footsteps and a knock upon my door. I call out for the person to enter. I am shocked to see Michael with Therese beside him. He never comes through the building. "Michael? What's happened?"

"I followed Victor. He's gone to Ragache to hire a marksman," Michael speaks quickly. "He will be back soon, I think."

Therese steps forward. She is dressed in layers of clothing under an old coat someone gave her. She throws her arms around my neck and hugs me with a desperation born of fear. "We're leaving," she says.

I give her a firm hug, holding her to me. "I love you, lass." Raising my hands to cradle her face I see she has tears in her eyes. "Be safe, love. I'll look for you in France."

She flashes one of those brave smiles at me. "We'll find you, Thomas."

"All my prayers go with you both." I let her go. This is her journey, and I cannot be a part of it.

_Michael_

"Be careful," I tell Thomas. "I don't know what else Victor and Ragache are planning."

Taking Therese's arm we head for the kitchen. She goes quickly to a pantry, and I spread out the sheet she took to pack the food in it.

"I'm going over to the abbey. I'll be right back," I tell her and turn.

Just inside the door is the woman I recognize as Frau Radmacher. She takes a step backward, a hand clenched before her stomach. "It's true," she says softly.

_Therese_

Michael has stopped in the doorway, I hear the Frau's voice. I drop the bread I held and hurry towards her. Reaching out to her, I pull her inside the kitchen as Michael steps back.

She takes a step forward, turning to me. "I didn't really believe it." She looks at Michael again. "You're the man he made."

Michael nods his head slowly.

"Herr Jaeger?" The disbelief in her voice is heart wrenching.

"Yes," he replies.

"He's my husband now, Frau Radmacher. Victor is on his way with a man to kill him."

Her eyes become fierce, "Let's get you some food." Without another glance at Michael, she turns towards the table.

_Michael_

I run to the abbey and up the stairs. Throwing on my extra clothes, I grab a sack and toss in the stubs of candles I have and the flint. I glance down at my books. They have been my companions for so long I am loathe to leave them behind. I toss them into the sack: they have been a part of the journey to this day, they will continue on my journey with me. Rolling up my blankets and tying them with a bit of rope, I leave to join my wife.

I look around the loft one last time. My life here is finished. Whether Therese and I survive is in the hands of God now.

Therese is waiting inside the door by the washing hut. Around the far side of the building, no one will see us leave from there. Thomas has come out, and Frau Radmacher stands by the door. Therese hugs them quickly, and comes to me. When we reach the cover of the trees, I raise a hand in farewell.

_Victor_

The man was getting drunk next to the fire in the inn. He doesn't look so impressive with his coat thrown open and his hand tucked down the blouse of one of the local women. Her florid face is screwed up into a leer as his thick lips work on her neck and her hand strokes him through his trousers.

I give the bench they are sitting on a kick with my boot. The hag opens her eyes to squint at me. I take out a few coins and toss them on the table in front of her. She pulls away from her would be seduced and scoops up the coins in her hand. Her lover protests, and yanks on her bodice. She moves away from us, fixing her clothing, to find another man to bed.

"Bretelle?" He straightens up, and looks almost coherent. I am surprised. Maybe the army taught him that.

"Yes."

"Outside," I tell him.

He glances towards the one window in the room. "Not tonight. I'm not an owl you know."

"Now," I tell him. Turning I leave the inn.

I sit on my horse, and after a few minutes he appears with a bag. He saddles a mule, and ties his bag to it. Leaving, I look to see if anyone is watching. I hope it is late enough that the gossips are all abed.

"Tomorrow I will be leaving the Sanitarium north of here with my wife for a few days. There is a man there, very tall, dark haired and scarred. You may only see him briefly. When it is possible, I want him killed."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen: The Crossing

_Therese_

He takes me along the road that leads back towards Geneva and the Lake. Although I know we are going north rather than west to France, I do not question Michael on this.

He holds my hand in the darkness, leading me through the drifts of snow until we reach what feels like ice under my feet. He warns me it is slick in some spots and to hang on to him. There is a sliver of moon to light the night, and the stars as I glance up seem to crowd closer to the earth. It is so hushed here; it feels as if the world is holding its breath.

We arrive at a fissure in the side of a ravine. Michael has me pause outside the opening until he returns for me. Inside is a cave walled with ice. He makes a fire for us, and has pulled in some straw that he has tossed furs upon. I drop the bundle I have carried with me. Pulling my shoes off, I place them by the fire to dry out with my socks, and retrieve dry ones from my bundle.

_Michael_

"Tomorrow we will ascend up to the top of the tree line," I tell Therese. "Up there are the last of the huts left by the shepherds that move the stock up to the high pastures during the summer. They will be empty now."

I bank the fire so that it will continue to give off some heat. Therese has lain down upon the furs. Taking off my inner coat I spread it over her and lay down by her side.

"When do you think Victor will know we are gone?"

I wrap an arm around her; I can feel her voice through her body. "If we are fortunate, he will leave for that trip with Elisabeth and not notice until he returns. Time may not be a friend to us. I wish to be cautious, and I don't want to push you beyond your endurance." She is about to protest, but I tell her, "We will take a different route from what he might expect."

"What route is that?"

"I'll explain it tomorrow. You need to sleep and so do I."

_Victor_

Coming back to the sanitarium, I look at the abbey. Its dark upper windows look like the empty sockets in a skull of stone. Are you watching me you devil? Or are you busy with that little whore I made for you. She's not as lovely as Astrid, but you can't take your pick can you?

I marvel to think he has not come to me on his knees thanking me for his woman. I want to be quit of him soon before something happens between them. If she were to come to her senses and flee from him, his tenuous control of his rage would snap. With that every living being here would be in mortal danger.

_Therese_

Morning comes quickly. We take care of dressing and repacking our supplies. My shoes are warm but stiff from drying next to the fire.

We start walking in the early morning light. Michael tells me to tie my scarf close around my face until the sun comes up. As we walk I watch the rope that stretches from my waist to his drag in the snow.

He points to the line where the trees stop up the side of the mountain. They seem close, and if we cut across the terrain we could climb to them quickly. Instead, he takes us along an old path that winds in a back and forth ascent. When I ask if it wouldn't be quicker to climb, he turns and tells me this will be slower, but will use up less of my strength.

"Aren't you being overcautious? I worked on a farm you know."

He turns to me and I see the speculation in his eyes. "I know you are no stranger to hard work. But we need to save that strength and use it when it is needed the most."

_Michael_

We take our first break when the sun nears its zenith.

Up the old paths that shepherds and tinkers have traveled since the soldiers of Rome came through the mountains, we are in the trees and I feel safer now. While we walked along the ravine, we were in plain sight. As we move among the trees, I know of places where I can get a clear view of anyone coming up behind us.

We eat from a small bag of nuts and cheese that we prepared this morning. Living in the mountains, I had learned how much to eat and what types of foods the mountaineers relied upon for strength. I make sure Therese eats her share. She has not been prepared for the journey up on the high ice.

_Therese_

He insists on checking my feet. He isn't satisfied until I can prove there are no spots where my shoes have rubbed. He tells me to get used to walking heels down first, it will help when we actually start climbing.

As we resume our trek, I can hear the shrill warning whistle of the little marmots. Somewhere in the forest the beasts have spied a Peregrine riding a high current. They'll scurry into their burrows until the danger is passed. Standing over us are the Larch, the Beech, and the Pines.

The air is very crisp, it chills my nose and makes my mouth dry. An over laden branch snaps, dumping its white burden down from on high. I dodge most of the snow, and Michael comes back to help brush it from my shoulders.

As the light begins to wane, I see that he is taking me up to a small hut. They are used in the summer by the herders who bring up the cattle to the high pastures. In winter they huddle, covered by the thick blanket of snow on their roofs.

_Michael_

I check around the hut first. There are no tracks, and I saw no signs of smoke. Going in, it looks to have been empty for a while. I leave Therese to rest while I get fire wood. Lighting a fire here will be safe. If it is observed, someone will believe it is a hunter or trader on their way up the mountain.

I get a pot and go out to scoop up some of the snow. Putting the pot of the fire, we can have some hot tea to go with our meal. We brought salt, but sugar was too much of a luxury to carry with us.

_Therese_

I sit with my hands wrapped around my hot tea. I reach out and run one under Michael's collar, teasing his neck. He rewards me with his lopsided smile. It is the first one I have seen today from him.

In the warmth of the hut, I begin to feel how tired my body is. My limbs heavy, I put up my shoes once more to dry and cast off my coat. Someone has driven pegs in the walls, and we stretch out our wet things to dry over night.

I look at Michael in the glow of the fire. He seems ready to get up and leave, as if the walking today has taken none of his strength. The hut is small for a man of his height. He stretches out in the center on the old straw that someone has left behind.

_Michael_

She looks tired now that she has had the chance to relax. The hut is warm. It will help her recoup her strength for tomorrow. I watch her comb her hair. Her presence brings me the first moments of peace I have had in over nine years.

Lying down on her side she closes her eyes and asks, "Tell me how you found me."

"I used to keep moving. I had several spots that proved to be the safest for me. When I was north of here, I decided to go farther into France." I stop and push the coals around in the fire.

"I was near the edge of a village, and there was a small group of people walking to the church yard. They carried a shroud. There was a man, tall and graying with a woman by his side. Oddly, she wasn't crying the way the other people were. She just stared at the ground as her husband lead her to the church."

"I watched them say words over you. They stayed together in a group and left the grave digger with you."

"I remember him," she says. "He did odd jobs in town and dug the graves when he could for more money for drink."

"He was drunk as your mourners left. He'd made the hole, but sat back with his bottle and fell asleep." I glance at Therese; she has a faint smile on her face. "When it got dark, I went into the graveyard. I pulled open the shroud and saw your face."

She is wearing an impish look as she reaches forward and pinches my arm. "What? Didn't look at my breasts while you had the chance?"

I try to look scandalized, but she giggles at me. "I did," I finally admit and she lays back and laughs out loud. "I carried you away after filling in the hole. I pulled the shroud off and looked at you, right down to your toes."

_Therese_

I had asked myself numerous times if I was falling in love with Michael or whether our connection was based on our reanimation. I am surer now than I ever have been in my life that there are people who are destined to find each other. This man found me, and God sent me back to be with him.

I roll over close to him. "Would you like to see my toes again?"

He didn't get that far. He was busy with other parts of me.

_Thomas_

With the noon meal over, I stop Frau Radmacher in the hall. "We need to tell Herr Dirnegg and Elisabeth that Michael and Therese have gone."

She gives me one of her curt nods. "I've already told the Herr. Elisabeth is packing to leave with Victor."

"Can you get to her?"

"Not without Victor knowing. I'd hoped," she pauses, watching one of the other staff going by. "I'd hope that he and Elisabeth would have left by now."

I raise my book from my lap. "I'll stay out here." The sun is shining through the glass of the conservatory. Despite the warmth it offers, my worry for Therese and Michael leaves me cold.

_Victor_

I leave the last patient I need to check in on before I go. Frau Radmacher stopped by the room twice with questions. She is beginning to annoy me. She has been a capable nurse; I do not understand why I have had to repeat my instructions to her twice.

Going through the conservatory, I see Thomas Wetherden. I ask, "Taking in the sun?"

He glances up, "Yes, actually. I'm tired of being stuck in my room."

"Frau Radmacher will work with you while I'm gone."

"That's fine, Victor. Therese told me she'd come to collect me when it was time."

"I'll be back in three days."

"Take your time. I'm sure you and your wife deserve a rest."

Departing, I go to fetch Elisabeth.


	17. Elisabeth

Chapter Seventeen: Elisabeth

_Victor_

Elisabeth is closing the last of our bags. To my consternation, it looks as if she has packed for a week, not a few days. The children rush at us, arms flung open. After kissing their Mother again, they turn to me and I hug them close. "Be good for the staff."

I lead Elisabeth out to the stable to our waiting carriage.

"Victor?" She has stopped, glancing inside the stable. "Who is that man?"

Damn it. She's seen Brettele. "Just a man passing through. I told him he could spend the night in the stable."

She smiles. "That was kind, Victor." Grasping my hand, she starts to step up into the carriage. "Oh, I've forgotten something."

"Elisabeth you've brought enough with us. You won't need anything else."

She blinks at me and glances around continuing in a low voice. "It's what I got from the midwife."

"All right." I watch her hurry back to the sanitarium.

_Thomas_

I've been keeping watch over Victor and Elisabeth. They've retreated to the stable, but now she has suddenly turned and come back to the building.

I leave my room, hastily making my way to the conservatory. Arriving, I see Frau Radmacher has been checking on their progress as well. She sends me a warning glance and I hang back out of view.

Elisabeth enters and goes to the Frau. "There's a strange man in the stable," she says.

"We know," the Frau replies. "He's an army marksman. The gossip is already going around the village. He has been brought here by Victor."

Elisabeth becomes very still. "No. You're wrong."

"Hurry," the Frau admonishes her. "Get you gone from here. Therese and Michael left last night."

I understand now that Elisabeth does not comprehend the depth of Victor's obsession with destroying Michael. As a stone tossed into a pond sends out waves, Victor's actions send out repercussions that touch us all. With a deep sense of foreboding, I watch the carriage leave at last.

_Michael_

Today, we ascend to the top of one of the high ridges. Walking along, I tell Therese, "We'll meet Thomas across the border in Fierney Volatire. He is to leave there on the 12th. We then go on to Moulins on the 14th, Poitiers until the 18th, Nantes for a day, and on to Le Havré on the 21rst."

I go over the cities and dates while she repeats them back to me. "If for some reason we are separated, I have put the money into your pack. I want you to meet up with Thomas."

"What about you?" She slows her steps.

"Not to worry, little wife. I know the schedule as well. I'd find you."

We stop at the top of the ridge. I point out the directions down the other side of the face into France to her. She has looked back over her shoulder. "What is over there?" She is looking south towards Italy.

"That is the top of the glacier. They call it the Sea of Ice. It leads to Chamonix on the other side. It's too dangerous to go across. Ice avalanches have been known to bury entire forests and villages."

_Victor_

We arrive in time for the evening meal at the Chalet. The dinner is well prepared and the staff leaves us alone to enjoy it. I carry up a bottle and two glasses with me as I follow Elisabeth back to our room.

Arriving, I see she is behind the screen, changing her clothing. I pour the wine, and sit on the bed. She appears wearing a gown I purchased for her. It is pale lavender silk. Bearing children has thickened her form, but I find it more attractive than ever. I love her pale hair down on her shoulders.

We sit together and sip our wine. I stroke her thigh through her gown. "Do you remember our honeymoon?"

She sighs softly. "Yes. I danced until I was dizzy."

Kissing her neck, I run my fingers between the ribbons that cross the bodice. She breaths softly, turning her head. Her hair teases my face. My questing fingers find her warm full flesh; I make circles around her nipple until it peaks under my fingers. She turns her face to mine and I kiss her deeply.

I take the glass away from her and place both of them on the table near the bed. "Were you happy when we married?"

She leans back on her elbows. "Yes Victor. You know I have always loved you."

"And I have always loved you, Elisabeth. Since the day my Mother brought you to live with us, you have always been mine."

Her blue eyes are so bright. "Your Father was so happy that day."

"I remember the pride on his face. His children at last married." I also remember his sadness. "He wanted so badly for us to be happy. Since William was murdered."

I move my hand to touch my wife. She doesn't respond. "What is wrong, Elisabeth?"

She is looking at me with a saddened expression. "Victor. You remember. William drowned."

Something is wrong. Elisabeth has never lied to me. I do not understand why she should fabricate such a statement now. "What?"

"He drowned Victor. Your Father and I found the body." Her eyes are large as she speaks to me. The rise and fall of her breast seems shallow. She swallows thickly.

Shaking my head I pull away from her. "No. The fiend who killed my brother was never found."

She sits up, curling her hands in her lap. Elisabeth fidgets. It is the singular most distracting thing that I have not been able to break her of. She flashes an awkward smile. "Of course, Darling." She reaches for the fly on my trousers. I capture her hand. My arousal has left me. She is attempting to distract me.

"Elisabeth, you are lying to me."

"No, Darling." Her voice is sincere but her eyes avoid mine.

I snatch her hair and pull her face towards mine. "Liar!" She flinches away from me. "Who has been talking to you? Therese? Astrid?"

"No Victor!" Tears fill her eyes. "We were on the blanket on the bank of the lake. William chased after his boat and fell in. We were making love and didn't hear him."

No. "You lying bitch." I yank her up off the bed by her hair. The fear on her face tells me all I need to know. "He told you that didn't he."

Her eyes grow larger, and I slap her. She sputters and puts her hands in front of her face. Grabbing handfuls of the gown I give it a viscous yank, tearing it off of her shoulders. "He told you didn't he!"

As she cowers before me, my eyes rake her body. "No wonder you didn't want me in your bed. Did you spread your legs for him as well? You were on the blanket by the lake while my brother drowned."

"No, Victor," her voice is pleading.

"He said he'd take my wife." I shove her away from me. "How could you betray me?"

"I've never betrayed you. I love you!" She reaches for my arm. She clings to my shirt.

"What else have you lied about?" I catch her shoulders and shake her, my face inches from hers.

"Nothing, Victor," she protests.

I cannot stomach the sickening lies that will pour from her pretty mouth. My hands encircle her throat. Her hands claw at mine but I am stronger. She tries to pull away and bumps into the table by the bed.

I feel a slashing pain in my cheek. She has picked up one of our wine glasses and has broken it on my face. Clutching at my torn cheek, she wrenches from my grasp and runs for the door. I am a few strides behind her as she heads for the stairs.

Catching at her gown, I pull her back to me. One stiff arm pushes off of my chest and she leans backwards.

For a moment she hovers in the air. Her hair a bright halo around her face, she floats away from me. She turns and pitches downward.

There is a sickening thud when she at last hits the floor at the base of the stairs. I stare at my wife's face. Her head is twisted to one side, the neck broken.

I rush to her. Cradling her body, I find her hand and slip off the wedding ring. "Elisabeth!"

They find me with her still warm corpse. A man is dispatched to the village with a description of the fiend who killed my wife.

I've waited too long. He finally found her.

Now it is my turn to rob him of his happiness as he has done to me.

_Thomas_

It is nearly noon, and those of us who have counted the hours since Therese and Michael departed are taking in a relaxed meal. Astrid has come out to join us, sitting beside Herr Dirnegg at the table. She does not speak but listens intently to every word from the Herr.

Our conversation is interrupted as someone comes through the dinning room looking for Frau Radmacher. She glances sharply at the servant and then to me. Something has gone wrong.

I back away from the table quickly, excusing myself. I turn my eyes to the Frau as Herr Dirnegg notices my movements. He turns to speak to Astrid in Austrian. She gets up quickly, and comes to push my chair for me.

We arrive at the conservatory door as Victor stands by a wagon. Two of the men from the Sanitarium are lifting something in a roll of tarp. Victor's face is cut; he stands in the same clothing that he left in. Elisabeth is no where in sight.

Looking at the way the two men lift the object, I realize it is a body. "My God."

Astrid's hands move on the back of the chair and she leans forward to look closely. "He's hurt Elisabeth?" She asks. Her voice sounds strained.

"Astrid, I think he has killed her."

Before I can warn her, she pushes past my chair and throws open the doors with a stiff arm. She's making a straight line towards Victor who has followed the men into the barn.

I cannot get out through the conservatory door without assistance. My wheels will become stuck on the bottom ledge along the ground. I turn my chair and start heading for the front door, shouting for the Frau. She arrives shortly and I turn to tell her, "Astrid's gone to follow Victor."

"What's happened?"

"He brought back a body."

I don't need to say more, the Frau is rushing towards the barn.


	18. Gathering Storm

Chapter Eighteen: Gathering Storm

_Thomas_

I get assistance from one of the orderlies and join the Frau near the wagon. Victor stands staring listlessly at the tarp.

"What has happened, Herr Doctor?" The Frau asks.

"Elisabeth," he replies softly.

"What happened," I demand.

His unfocussed eyes swing to look at me. "Murderer," he murmers. "Murderer," he says again as he spins quickly and walks into the stable.

_Victor_

I find myself climbing the stairs in the stable. I bellow for Bretelle who gets up from a pallet on the floor of the loft. "Bring your rifle."

The Frau is still standing in the yard as I come down the stairs. "What happened," she questions me again.

"My wife has been murdered," I bite out. Tears threaten to spill from my eyes, and I dash them aside with a hand. My cheek is still swollen from the gash, but has finally stopped weeping blood. Its constant sting is inconsequential to the pain of my wife's death.

Bretelle comes out of the stable, and I order him to follow me to the old Abbey. "He's probably in there. Be careful, he can be quick."

Pushing open the door, I enter the building for the first time in months. All of my equipment has been removed, the table stripped bare. I indicate the stairs to the loft and wait for Bretelle. He ascends as I call out; "Come down, Sebastian!"

There are footfalls after Bretelle disappears from my sight. I do not hear a gunshot, and quickly mount the stairs. The loft is empty. A few crates occupy the space, but there are no signs of the demon. "Clever beast. He's already left." I motion Bretelle, "We'll have to hunt him down. Get two horses ready and I'll get food."

I start back to the Sanitarium and see the Frau has opened the tarp. Thomas Wetherden sits staring at Elisabeth's frozen features. They both look up at me.

Therese has turned them against me. I can see it in their eyes.

"Where are they?" I can hear the hatred dripping from my voice. These creatures that I struggled to bring forth have now turned on me. They have been adroit in their endeavors to plant the seeds of doubt in the minds of those who surround me.

I start back to the Sanitarium. Throwing open the doors I go to the kitchen and demand the cook pack food for a number of days. I pace the halls, stopping the servants and orderlies asking who has seen Therese.

After retrieving the bags from the cook, I pass through the conservatory and drop the food by the door. Going to my study I retrieve an old pistol I have kept that my Father gifted me with.

_Thomas_

I stare down at the startled features of Elisabeth's face. "My God. He killed her?"

The Frau stands beside me. "Her neck's broken. Possibly an accident?"

"No. She looks to be in a night gown. It's torn and there's blood on it."

"There's blood on Victor's face. You saw the gash." She replies glancing back at the house. "Here he comes."

Astrid has been standing inside the shadows of the stable door. Her eyes reflect pin points of light, and I feel an odd tingling as I look at her. As if someone has just walked over my grave. She disappears into the darkness of the stable without a word.

_Victor_

I dash to my wife's side and close the tarp over her face. "Leave her in peace," I spit at the two people who have remained to gawk at her.

I lift the pistol and point it at Thomas. "Where are they?"

His dark eyes bore into mine. "They left before you did Victor."

"That's impossible. The fiend killed Elisabeth. He said he would, and now he's done it!"

"He couldn't have," the Frau says. "They left the night before you did."

"Liar! Don't you see, he came back and killed her!"

I'll get nothing more from these two. Turning, I go to get my horse.

Bretelle is standing next to one, tying on the bags of food. "Hurry up. We have to pick up their tracks."

"Who else is with the man?" Bretelle asks.

"A woman he took from here."

Bretelle looks unconvinced. I point the pistol at him. "Get on the horse and start tracking him down!"

He looks down the barrel and me and then turns to put a foot in the stirrup. As he does I see Astrid moving behind him. Before I can speak, she stabs the man in the back.

He staggers, reaching backward for the knife that is standing between his shoulders. In my line of fire, I call out for him to move, but he still struggles to find the knife.

She pulls out the knife and I see her arm rise again and fall. Bretelle screams, clawing at his chest and blood spews from the corner of his mouth. She's found a lung. And here I thought Astrid was a stupid bitch.

Bretelle drops to his knees, and I pull the trigger. The blast from the gun is deafening. I do not know if Astrid screamed, the smoke from the muzzle obscures my vision. The force of the bullet has knocked her backwards. A hole appears just below her neck and blood fountains, leaving a spreading stain over her breast.

I climb on my horse and grab the reigns to Bretelle's, and turn the animals out of the stable.

_Thomas_

I warn the Frau to stand aside as the horses start towards the doors. Once Victor has past, we rush to Astrid's side. I slide out of my chair and onto the ground beside her. She is dying.

I lift her limp hand, and her eyes turn to me. Her voice is light but rasping, "Don't let him bring…"

"I know, Astrid. We won't let him bring you back."

She smiles. Blood has stained her teeth red. Her hand spasms as she begins to choke. Her body is wracked by coughing as her life's blood fills her lungs.

Finally she lets out a gurgling sigh and is still. Frau Radmacher closes Astrid's eyes. I say a quick prayer that God will not forget her. I also pray that Victor will not find Therese and Michael.

_Therese_

Michael cut down the limb of a tree as we walked down the French side of the Jura Mountains. Stripping it down, he uses it to walk with. He has started wearing the glasses that Thomas purchased for him. Yesterday we passed two men: A local farmer who works to keep the pass cleared, and a tinker with a small wagon. Seeing Michael's cane and glasses, he took pity on us and gave us a ride to town.

We chose to stay in a very small room in an older inn. We took our bowls of the stew that was offered for dinner and moved to a dark corner. Even sitting, Michael is a commanding presence. But once our fellow patrons saw the dark glasses, they lost interest in the tall man.

Our room is hardly bigger than the bed that occupies it. We take turns bathing, and I sit combing my fingers through my wet hair before the tiny stove that keeps the chill at bay. Michael takes a book from his pack, and reads to me. He promises to help me learn to read in English once we join Thomas.

_Michael_

I am relieved that we have made it without being followed. Walking into this village was the first test of my reception into the world of men. People have stopped to look at me because of my height and my facial scar. Seeing Therese walking with me and the dark glasses, they dismiss me as a harmless visitor in their midst.

We located the train station and picked an older Inn to occupy for the two days before we are set to meet with Thomas.

Alone in our room, we sit and relax. I have begun reading _Paradise Lost_ to her. As I tire, I close the book and consider the title. When I was awakened under the lightning, my world was indeed lost to me. With Therese, it has become paradise returned.

All men born must accept who they are. There is little of our circumstances that we can change so radically that we could leave the person we were behind. Some thread of our existence will always be a tie that tethers us to what we were. I had everything I ever was ripped away from me. Now, I struggle to weave myself back into the fabric of the world.

There is one thing that I desire above all else. "Therese? Will you marry me?"

She smiles at me and then glances at the bed. Since we first made love, we have been together every night. But I want this last thing. "Before God, in a church, will you consent to be my wife?"

"Yes, Michael. I will marry you."

"I love you." I tell her this every day, and will for all the days I have left with her.

I cannot speculate as to what my physical age is. By my work as a professor, I know I must have been close to thirty when I was executed. The body Victor gave me is vigorous and shows no outward indications of its age.

Victor worked to remove the limitations that God left us with in his opinion. My joints were changed, my muscles torn and re-attached. I have no idea of what he might have done to all of the internal organs. Being I was dead, I don't know what the condition of my body is now, or how much it might regenerate.

Tomorrow we will meet Thomas at the station and I can finally leave Victor behind.


	19. What Dark Arms

A/N: Greetings everyone. My work has slowed down my postings. Thank you to all who are keeping up with this madness.

Chapter Nineteen: What Dark Arms

_Therese_

We sat in the station since early in the morning. We had brought some food with us for the wait. Today was the day Thomas was scheduled to leave for the first leg of his trip to England. Michael and I have sat chatting. Children have wandered by, staring at his glasses. He has been remarkably careful not to react to people. I believe he is not yet comfortable with them around him. He has sat with his eyes closed behind the glasses.

Glancing at the station clock, we watched the day slip away. Today was blessed with sun shine. It has crept down the wall, its golden glow turning to purple shadows.

"Guide me to the station door," Michael tells me. He has written something on a piece of paper while no one was looking.

We go to a crude message board that hangs along one wall. Messages are left here for travelers, and bills hang that give directions to the local Inns. I tack up the message he wrote for Thomas, and we go back to the Inn and get another room.

"Victor?" I ask.

He sits on the edge of the bed, a thumb brushing the scar across his face. I memorize his movements, for I know he is going to leave me.

"You stay here. Be at the station in case Thomas was just delayed. Take a train to the next place along the route that I told you. I'll go back for Thomas, and we'll catch up to you."

I know this must be done. I would slow Michael down, and Thomas may be in peril. "What if Thomas is just late? What if he arrives tomorrow?"

_Michael_

"There are many possibilities, and it may take me some time to unravel them. I'll check the Sanitarium first."

I am worried now. There might be a simple explanation for this. A snow blocked pass, or an accident with a wagon wheel. What I truly fear is Ragache or Victor preventing Thomas from coming. Ragache wants to control the assets Thomas has in England. Why would Victor hold him? There is only one reason, to lure me back.

I know I would be his target, but I deliberate on whether I should leave Therese alone. It is possible Thomas might tell them the route, of they may follow him. If I leave, Therese may be in danger from Victor.

With this in mind I tell her, "I'm going to slip out tonight. I can move faster now than I could walk about as the blind man during the day."

She leads me downstairs and we eat dinner. We sit and listen to a man play a fiddle for a time. As the crowd thins, we go back to our room.

I take her into my arms. "No matter what happens, I want you to keep going. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she replies softly. Her eyes shine with tears as I kiss her. Taking a quick look around the streets outside the small window in the room, I toss a pack out of the window. I turn one last time and kiss my wife. I hold her close, wanting my love for her to seep down into her bones, so that she will always know that I am a part of her as she is to me.

Lingering, I lay her hand over my heart, and rest my fingertips over hers. And then I let her go.

Leaping to the snow on the ground, I hover low, a dark shape in the shadow of the building. When no one appears, I start running for the edge of the village.

_Thomas_

It takes the diggers a number of hours to break the ground and hollow out a spot deep enough to bury Astrid.

Herr Dirnegg's face was bloodless as the Frau and I told him what transpired. He immediately had a carved stone prepared, giving Astrid his last name.

The village priest asked about details, we left it up to him to perform the basic ritual. The snow had stopped to be replaced by blowing gouts of sleet. We hovered in our coats, scarves wrapped around our heads to keep out the stinging cold as we stood at her graveside.

I am not a superstitious man, but as the priest intoned the blessing over her shroud, I felt as if a pair of warm hands rested on my shoulders, giving me a gentle squeeze. I felt myself blink and knew there was a tear in my eye. Astrid, if you can hear us, we wish you a peaceful sleep. You never have to suffer Victor again.

As we returned to the house, we talked. Her Dirnegg believed that Astrid looked at Elisabeth as a replacement for her Mother. Astrid's relations with her family must have been colored by her Father. It disgusts me to find that the man used his own daughter. It disgusts me even more that Victor saw fit to take advantage of that relationship.

I want nothing more than to retreat to my room with a bottle of wine. The deaths of Elisabeth and Astrid leave a cold emptiness inside me. Victor will not be finished yet.

Out near the barn lies Elisabeth; they buried the tarp under a layer of snow. We gave our testimonies as to the deaths of Astrid and the man in the stable to the local constable. The bodies were evidence. No one knows the man, but we paid for a grave for him.

We tried to console the children. We sent word to Victor's father, but he has not come or sent word back to us. We wait, listening to the voice of the wind as it moans in the night.

_Victor_

I stop at Ragache's house. The stupid ape was gone. His housekeeper warbles on about business elsewhere as she assesses my two horses and the rifle. I think the cow has told me a lie, and push past her into the house. "He won't mind me waiting for him." I toss my wet coat at her. "Bring me something to eat."

She looks at the coat as if she has never seen one before, but waddles away to the back of the house. I follow a moment later; I hear her banging pans, so she is following my instructions.

I take up a chair in Ragache's study. Sitting thumbing my cut cheek I remember Elisabeth's vehement denial of guilt. Why did she lie to me? I have only ever loved her, how could she betray me?

My world has been a fraying rope, a tenuous thread, and now the fiend has moved to shear it. He's taken away my wife, my brother, my family's happiness, even my reason.

It began the night that his heart resumed beating. With his first breath, he began to siphon off my energy, drain my ability to form thoughts, take away the comfort I sought from my loved ones. My dreams were filled with plundering bodies stacked in filthy pits, charnel houses where I gleaned bits of bone and sinew to study, my loft room where I cast aside my books and took up the scalpel. My macabre companions were parts of bodies that I vivisected by the light of candles in the deep of the night. I brought lime and chemicals to my room to cover the smell of decay that soaked into my skin, my hair, and the grey boards under my feet.

Were you attendant, grim reaper? Did I cheat you of your gruesome victories? Was the vampire, whose kiss condemned, jealous of my abilities? And dark wraith, did you mourn the dismal taste of death that I snatched from your ghostly hands? Did ghouls sit quivering in the church yards, howling as only the damned may howl, angry at my pilfering their sustenance?

What dark arms wrapped me in this embrace? What soft lips whispered in my ear while a skeletal finger pointed out my tasks. What nightmare sat at my elbow, urging me on while my strength failed me? They tainted my reason and distracted my thoughts until the hellish demon broke free of the kingdom of death to bring forth my ruin.

My reverie is broken by the tread of the housekeeper. She sets down a plate before me and a tankard. I detest the strong beer that Ragache swills, but drain the brew and eat the food. I call for more of the beer, and the housekeeper protests. Evidently Ragache is not a generous host. Heedless of her bleating, I roar at her for more. She scurries away and returns with a filled tankard.

I consider her as she leaves. With dark wiry hair, thick ankles, and work worn hands, she is probably Ragache's bed sport. He's had little luck with invitations to finer houses since his escapades with Astrid and Therese. The peasants of the village are all he is likely to attract with his paltry purse.

Elisabeth, my stolen bride, the light of my life that was extinguished to soon. Would that I could climb the stairs and find you waiting sleepily for me in the bed.

Instead I drain the tankard and climb the stairs. Pushing open a door, I lay down on a bed and sleep.

_Therese_

The morning comes quickly, and I hasten to be gone from the Inn before the patrons realize Michael is not with me.

Arriving at the station, I purchase a ticket from Fierney Volatire to Moulins. I will have four days after I arrive there before I have to press on. I have carefully hidden my money in two separate places about my person. I fear if I miss Thomas, how I could find my way back or whether I should even try.

This is all so confusing to me. Sitting alone, I have nothing to occupy my mind except the anxiety of Michael's return to Switzerland, and the empty hours of waiting for his return with Thomas.

I stare out the window on the train, keeping to myself. Arriving in the evening at Moulins, I find a modest Inn and rent a room. I hide my belongings, and prop a chair before my door. Lying on top of the bed, I pull the covers over me and pray my husband and my friend are all right.

_Thomas_

The staff of the sanitarium is anxious, fearful of Victor's return. The constable has sent two guards to watch over the building. I circulate through the dinning room and conservatory, trying to be cheerful for people. I'm afraid I fail miserably.

With every passing hour, the tension threatens to explode. People are becoming short tempered. The patients are angry and the staff is hard pressed to appear at ease. Arguments in the kitchen and wash hut have cause two people to disappear.

They all fear Victor.

When he returned with Elisabeth's corpse, the people were in shock. But after the murder of Astrid and the man in the stable, it became clear to everyone that Victor had gone mad.

Meeting with the Frau and Herr Dirnegg, they express another concern. They feel I may become Victor's target next. If he suspects I have aided Therese and Michael, then he will come to believe that I know where they are. I have though of that as well.

The Frau secured a firearm from the village. I keep it tucked under the robe across my knees. Although I do not feel at ease, I know what must be done. If I am the bait for Therese or Michael for Victor, then so be it. He cannot afford my death unless he is sure that he knows where they are. If I can buy them some more time to distance themselves, then so be it.

Victor has ever been the puppeteer, and we his puppets, dangling from strings.

_Michael_

I arrive tired, and so I hide in the forest. There are new guards on the property now. I watch for some time before dawn, and find Thomas' window.

Gaining entrance, I go to his bedside. Covering his mouth, I give him a shake.

"Thomas. It is Michael," I whisper to him.

He sits up in the bed. "Where is Therese?"

"Still in France. She is going on with the schedule. Why are you still here?"

"Victor returned. With him in a wagon was Elisabeth's body."

"What?"

"We think they may have fought. Her neck was broken and his face has a cut. It happened their first night at the Chalet."

I am sickened by this. Elisabeth had always been good to Victor. Perhaps too good, and now she has paid for it. "Where is he?"

"We don't know. There was a man in the stable, a hired assassin. Astrid saw the body and hid. She killed the man and Victor shot her to death. We buried her two days ago. Victor hasn't been seen since."

I stand up. "And Elisabeth?"

Thomas points out of his window in the direction of the stable. "Her body is still there, under the snow. We were hoping Victor's Father would come."

"There won't be time," I tell him. "Victor will return for her."

I can hear him hold his breath. "Jesus! You don't think…"

"I don't think-I'm not mad. But Victor is. I would not doubt his twisted belief that he could bring her back from the dead." I go to the window. "I'll be in the forest, but I will watch over her. If Victor does not return by tomorrow night, we will leave, agreed?"

"Yes."

I climb out of the window and cross the grass, slipping once more into the shadows I have lived my life among.


	20. Purging Flames

Chapter Twenty: Purging Flames

_Victor_

I wander downstairs. The housekeeper has started making breakfast. Apparently the woman is not without wits. She sets out a plate of Raclette, the melted cheese, pork, and potatoes the mountain people are fond of. It rests heavily in my stomach. The second cup of coffee she brings me is weak.

I start going through Ragache's desk, and find the map I was hoping he would have. The sanitarium sits near the south end of Lake Geneva. It would be easier for the demon to lead Therese away to France. It's a short trip to the border, and they would arrive at the railway at Saint-Julien-En-Genevois. They could not be seen by common folk, the fiend's yellow eyes would give him away.

Leaving by the Lake and going north would lead them to Lake Neuchátel. The mountains are steep, but the mulattieres-the mule drivers-use passes. Again, I ponder the question of how the demon will travel unseen. Once they enter France, I will not be able to find them unless I know where they entered the country and where they are bound.

The route south is the only way he could hope to by pass humanity. In that direction, his travels would be slowed by Therese. They would be going over the glacier itself as it slowly winds between the mountain peaks. It is called the Ice Sea.

I pace the room. Once Ragache returns, we will go to the Sanitarium. It is time to fetch Elisabeth's body.

_Thomas_

Frau Radmacher and Herr Dirnegg are stunned that Michael has returned, but relieved that I will be able to leave. "And what of you?" I ask.

Sitting mute, with empty eyes they make no reply. "Victor," I say it for them. "Things will start happening once Victor returns, or is captured."

The Frau nods. "You must leave."

"He'll be back soon." Herr Dirnegg taps tobacco into his pipe and lights it. "Although the snow impedes the spread of decay, Victor must return soon for her."

The Frau's face melts, a tear rolls down her cheek. "No."

Smoke wreaths around his head. "Yes. He loves her too much to let her go."

"That's what Michael said." I stroke the Frau's arm. "Don't worry. We will not let Victor do it."

"What can he hope? Her children would not take her back. We've all seen her body!" The tears flow freely down her cheeks.

"He is beyond hope," the Herr tells her. "He has lost what reason was left to him."

I get my things packed.

_Michael_

The day passes slowly. Although it is dry today, the air is sharp with the cold. People stay to the buildings, and I sit napping against the bole of a tree.

The guard I see is new. The local constable has assigned men to watch out for Victor's return. He could claim I killed Elisabeth, but witnesses heard and saw him in the stable with Astrid and that man.

The faces of the women return to my mind. Elisabeth was a lovely woman, devoted to her family and Victor. I wonder at what horror she must have felt as she witnessed the side of him that has always been turned to me. It sickens me to know her last moments were of fear and betrayal.

And Astrid? Like Bette, she was never really prepared for this. She recoiled in horror from me, when I would have cared for her. She fled to Victors arms and became his lover. Perhaps that is the only way she knew how to love.

Victor hired an assassin. How like you to hire someone else to pull the trigger, Victor. You would not soil yourself with killing, or take the risk when someone else would do it for you.

_Victor_

Ragache arrives. The housekeeper hustles to the door to warn him that I am here. He takes his time before entering the sitting room.

He draws himself up. "You are wanted by the law, Victor. They say you killed Astrid and Bretelle."

"Astrid killed Bretelle. I need to bring something back from the sanitarium. I need a wagon, and help." He starts to speak, but I cut him off. "You want Whetherden, don't you?"

I can see the piggish gleam in the man's eyes. No matter what I ask of him, he will balk, until I promise to hand over Thomas. "We go tonight. You make this trip with me and we shall get Thomas."

I see speculation going behind his eyes. I'll help him take Thomas. The man was Therese's confidant. She probably told him something about where they hoped to go.

Taking a wagon, I stop it along the road in the trees and tether the horse. Night is falling, and the guard has gone into the sanitarium. Perhaps he is fed in the kitchen.

I go to the stable and begin looking for Elisabeth. The tarp is nowhere to be found and I panic. Surly they would not have buried her so soon. If they have I will go to the village and find the grave.

Methodically I work my way through the building, and finally outside. It is full dark and I dare not strike a light. Moving carefully, I find a hump in the snow. Brushing it aside, I see the tarp.

I work my way back to the wagon. Once it is full dark, Ragache will arrive with a coach and a promised helper.

_Michael_

He has come at last. I watched him searching for the body. Curiously, once he has located Elisabeth, he goes back the way he came. I follow along, lost to his vision in the trees. He sits on the wagon; he must have aid coming. I pause at the edge of the trees, and dart into the underbrush. It is time to find a weapon.

Going back towards the sanitarium I gather up the traps that Victor had set. Picking up one by the chain, I pull up the stake that secured it to the ground. I wrap the chain around my arm and pull of the stake, dropping it into my pocket. I take up the trap and carry it with me.

_Victor_

I hear the approaching wheels, but hide beyond in the trees. A coach pulls up and a man gets out with a gun. Ragache follows, leaving a driver to sit with the horses.

"Well?" Ragache glances around the road.

"First, we get the tarp to this wagon." I instruct the fellow with the gun. I turn back to Ragache. "Once that is done, I'll go into the sanitarium with you for Thomas." Looking at the three men I tell them, "There is one guard from the village. He's in the main building right now, and we need to get to the far side of the stable to pick up the tarp."

"No." Ragache looks at his two companions. "We can have Deider watch the guard while we get Thomas into the coach, and then I'll help you with your tarp."

He has indicated the man with the gun. Although I have the rifle and my Father's pistol in the wagon, I could not hope to shoot all three of these men. Ragache has played his trump card. "Very well," I reply affably. "We will get Wetherden first."

Ragache moves towards the coach. "Deider will accompany you, Victor. If you have any trouble from the guard, he will take care of him."

I get up onto the wagon. I pull the wagon in behind the coach as we approach the sanitarium. I'll let Ragache have his way. He doesn't know I have a pistol or that I can use it.

_Thomas_

We are in the dinning room when one of the younger servants comes running in. She speaks to the Frau who indicates the kitchen, "Get the guard," she says.

Eyes turn to me. It has to be Victor. "Stay out of his way," I warn them. "Whatever happens, let Michael know, but stay clear of Victor."

The Frau wheels me towards the hallway. The outer doors open. My cousin stands to one side of the threshold.

"Greetings, Thomas."

I remember now why Edgar was never one of my favorite cousins. There has always been something self-serving in his attitude. "Cousin," I reply, attempting to sound surprised. "What brings you back here?"

He grins at me, walking into the building. Behind him is a man who moves past him; he trains a gun on me. The Frau makes a noise and steps back. I lift a hand slowly. "Cousin, there is no need for this. I'll come with you."

Edgar saunters forward. "Of course you will, _cousin_." He lashes out with a fist. It slams into my temple and knocks me aside in my chair.

The guard from town stops at the end of the hall. Ragache's companion trains the gun on me. Edgar barks out, "Stop there and drop the weapon!"

The man stands firm, but the Frau motions him to drop it. He lets the muzzle drift towards the floor. There are voices rising from the dining room, a man appears behind the guard and clubs him over the head. Stooping to pick up the gun he joins us and pushes the Frau aside.

_Michael_

I have seen the wagon and the coach. Running to the side of the stable, I lift Elisabeth's frozen body and carry her into the barn. Using the chain I pulled off the trap, I tie it swiftly around her neck.

I push the tarp back for a moment, looking at her frozen features. "Forgive me, Elisabeth."

I hoist her body up on the rafter to one side of the stable. Pushing the straw towards it, I create a mound of it under her body. I run and grab a lamp, spilling some of the contents of it over the tarp and onto the straw. With quick strokes, I strike the flint and start the fire. Standing back I wait for it to start to eat away at the mound. I fan it with a horse blanket I find, pushing the flames higher.

Around me the horses have smelled the smoke and begin to move about in their stalls. I work to quickly get the stalls open and shoo them towards the door of the stable.

_Victor_

I go to another door in the sanitarium while Ragache goes to get Thomas. Going to my library, I open the compartment on my desk. I withdraw my journals, the last records of my experiments.

Going to the fireplace, I start ripping pages from the books and set them to light. I toss in a larger piece of wood over them, and some kindling. I blow into the flames, watching the fire race along the pages, curling them into charred ruins.

I get to my feet, satisfied that they will continue to burn to ash. Standing in the door is my eldest child, my son Lothair. His is his mother's son, fair haired and pale blue eyed.

"Papa?"


	21. Creator

Chapter Twenty-One: Creator

_Victor_

"Papa, I smell smoke." Lothair's voice is hushed.

"Go back to your room, son. It will go away soon."

He turns away, obediently. I look at his small body, and feel a sharp pain in my chest. I kneel down behind him, and pull him into my arms. "I love you, son."

His small arms wrap around my neck. "Papa, I love you too. When are you coming back?" He stops talking, his small body shaking. "Where is Mama?"

I feel the sting of tears in my eyes. I hold him away from me and grasp his small face in my hands. "She loved you. I love you. You must always remember that, Lothair." I kiss his forehead and hold him close as he cries.

I begin to here sounds outside, the scream of the horses.

"Go back now, son. I have to go, but I'll come back, I promise." I wipe his face and push him gently towards our rooms. Turning I run for the outer doors.

The stable! I see the light of a fire inside the doors. The fiend must be here.

I run to the wagon and get the pistol. Walking back, I search the shadows along the edges of the trees. People are coming from the sanitarium, heading for the well to fill buckets and what ever they can find to hold water. I move among them. In the confusion, no one challenges me. Peering inside I see one side of the opening is where the fire is centered. A chain is tossed over a rafter, it holds up the tarp with my wife's body.

"Elisabeth!" Her name rips out of my throat and I plunge into the building throwing up a hand before my face. Smoke unfurls along the rafters, the heat takes my breath away. Getting closer, I see the edges of the flame have charred her legs; they lick their way up her torso. "No, oh God, no!"

I try to reach her, my hands sting as I try to grasp the tarp and swing her towards me. The smoke chokes me, and my eyes are streaming with tears. "Elisabeth!"

I am forced to stagger back away from the flames. The others try to drag me out of the stable. I fall on my knees and crawl away from the fire. A sharp cracking sound makes me look back. The rafter has given way; my wife's body falls to the center of the flames. Closing my eyes, I know that she is gone.

I climb to my feet, holding on to the stable door. I turn away. There is nothing for me here now. Elisabeth is forever beyond my reach.

Standing at the edge of the light is the demon. His eyes reflect the leaping flames. "Damn you!" I whip up the pistol and squeeze the trigger. It jerks in my hand, the sound drowned out by the roar of the fire and the strident shouts around me.

_Michael_

I move easily from the path of the bullet. Victor's face is a rictus of pain and rage. He throws the gun at me and rushes towards me. He attempts to grab me, but with a stiff arm I shove him backwards to the ground.

I hear the report of a shot, moving, a bullet grazes my back. Turning, I see Ragache pointing at me, a man stands next to him fumbling to reload the gun. Another man pushes Thomas' chair out of the sanitarium door. Ragache must have seen this as an opportunity to take Thomas.

Victor is on the ground, but Thomas is in danger and cannot hope to defend himself. I run towards them. Ragache starts running passed the man with Thomas. The other man lifts the gun, but I bring a hand down onto his wrist. He screams as it breaks, the gun falls and I pick him up by the neck and shove him backwards into the door jamb. His head slams against it and he goes limp.

_Thomas_

Ragache has made it to a coach that sits waiting near the building. He snatches open the door and steps aside, pointing a pistol passed me. He must be aiming for Michael.

Under the lap blanket that covers my knees rests my pistol. I slide my hand around the handle and point it towards him. Pulling the trigger, the bullet cuts through the blanket and hits Ragache in the belly. He clutches himself and falls to his side.

The man who was pushing the chair reaches over me, searching for the gun. The barrel of the damn thing is now hot but I grab onto it and refuse to let go.

The man is jerked away from me. Catching a hold of the wheels of my chair, I spin it about and watch as Michael passes my chair dragging my attacker by the collar. He tosses the man down and goes to Ragache, who is now pushing backwards, holding out a blood covered hand.

Michael picks up the gun and tosses it away. Ragache cowers before him. As Michael turns back to me, a primitive fear buries its claws in my shoulders. The hellish light from the stable makes his yellow eyes appear to glow. Michael is a vision from a nightmare. He turns back towards the stable.

_Victor_

I rolled to my side. My bullet missed and so did Ragache's henchman's. I wonder for a fleeting moment if the fiend truly is a demon. He has been shot before and survived. My mind reels at the thought that he is invincible.

He walks towards me, that arrogant sneer that the scar forms across his face. "Damn you." I get to my feet. I am only a man, I cannot hope to stand against him.

_Michael_

I stop close to Victor, he attempts to shove me back, but I do not move. I catch hold of his arm and drag him close to me so he is forced to look up into my face. "Creator, behold what you have created." I sweep my arm in a wide arc, passed the stable where Elisabeth burns, the coach where Ragache lies bleeding, the doors where the henchman clutches his wrist.

Victor struggles to get away from me. "Would that I had had the strength to kill you that first night."

"Yes," I bellow in his face. "You should have killed me Victor. You could have saved all of these people from your madness!" He tries to spit in my face, and I pick him up and toss him several feet away from me. I wipe the spit from my jaw and look at the man whose twisted mind has caused so much pain and death.

"Go ahead," he shouts. "Kill me. It's what you've always wanted. Kill me you vile wretch and have done with it! Give me the peace that you have denied my family."

"I'm not a killer, Victor," I reply softly.

"Your first act was fratricide, don't you remember?" He's speaking of the next man he was creating.

"That pile of bone and meat was no more my brother than you were my father." I look down at him. "Are you my father, Victor? Was Astrid my sister? And if she was, what does that make you?"

He's shaking his head. "You damned devil, you've destroyed everyone I have ever loved."

"No, Victor. William drowned in the lake when you came back from Ingoldstadt; you were supposed to be watching over him. Clerval seduced Constanza Jaeger at your behest. He paid for it with his life. I paid for it with mine."

I point a finger in his face. "You set this all in motion. You were my judge and my executioner more surely than the man who pulled the lever and hanged me."

"Demon! Liar! Your foul hands reek of the blood of the innocent."

I squat down next to him. "Victor, who cut your face?"

He mouths something. "She lied."

"No she didn't Victor. Elisabeth tried to protect you. You killed her Victor, you killed your wife."

"No…" His will is seeping away. His mind has turned upon itself. I can see in his eyes the horror he is allowing himself to remember.

"Elisabeth," he whispers.

I am not a killer. I am ashamed of the man I once was. For all that he believed himself to be, he lost himself in a jealous rage and killed the woman he loved. In that respect, Victor and I have both committed grievous sins.

I take him by the arm. "Get up, Victor."

He's weeping, wrapping his arms around himself as if he could protect himself from the truth. "Kill me..," he whispers, "Elisabeth."

I look down at this man who so carelessly damned me to an existence without hope until I became the creature he imagined me to be and forced him to give me what I needed. "No. Your wife would not want me to…and neither would mine."

I give him a little shake. "You have children Victor. Elisabeth's children. They need their father."

He shivers as he climbs to his feet. "My children?"

"Your sons and your daughter. They will have no one if you let yourself descend into your self pity. They need their father." I keep my voice low and steady. He seems to be rallying. The though of his family is restoring some of the Victor Frankenstein that Elisabeth saw.

He takes a halting step towards the building. People have stopped to look at us. The Frau has gone to Ragache's side. Thomas sits waiting for me.

Victor stops before the door, pulling his arm out of my hand. He wipes his face on his sleeve and straightens. "I need to see my children," he says quietly. Herr Dirneg moves forward and accompanies him to his rooms.

I go to join Thomas. "Are you alright?"

"Yes. I burned my damned hand," he says and lifts it. He's shaking badly. Thomas has not seen the violence that I have experienced. "Is it over?"

"Yes, Thomas. We will leave soon. Therese will be waiting."

Around us, people stare. The stable has fallen in on itself. They can only stand now and watch it burn, keeping it from setting anything else to light.

The man with the broken wrist is hustled into the building by the guard, and two men carry Ragache into the sanitarium accompanied by the Frau and another nurse.

I feel empty. After the worry, the deaths, and the capture of Victor, I stand listlessly as people gaped at me, unsure of who or what I am.

The Frau has one of the servants make up a bed for me. I wait in Thomas' room until the Frau returns for me. I have my dark glasses, but the people still skirt around me. So much has happened around them, it splits the foundation of their beliefs and leaves them wandering, looking for something tangible to cling to.

One brave soul came by with some warmed stew in a bowl and a few slices of bread for me. When I finished, I sat the dishes outside my door. I sat for a long time staring at the small lamp in the room.

For so many years I have battled the rage inside. My anguish over my loneliness and my belief that no hope would ever come to me feed my anger. Since Therese has been born, hope has blossomed to soothe my internal pain.

If she had not been reanimated, would I have killed Victor? Or would I have hounded him for the rest of his life until he did produce a companion for me? Was I any more than what Victor expected me to be all of those years? Although I only ever caused the death of the second man he was working on, my battle with Victor caused the death of all of these others.

I cross to the door and lock it. Laying on the bed I finally drifted off to sleep.


	22. A Question

Chapter Twenty-Two: A Question

_Therese_

I have reached Poitiers. I have a number of days to await for the hoped for arrival of Michael and Thomas.

After spending a night in another Inn, I took a walk through part of the town that skirted the train station. Many monuments appear to Charles Martel who halted the invasion of the Saracens. If the battle had turned, we might have all been raised in the faith of the Muslims.

My money has been spent carefully. I don't eat much, and require only the Inn for shelter. But today, I noticed the shop of a seamstress. Going in I found she had cloth for sale, and bought enough for a blouse. I also purchased some lace. Sewing will occupy my hands while I wait, and it cheers my heart to think I will have something lovely to welcome my husband with.

_Thomas_

I am called to Victor's study by Frau Radmacher. The constable from the village came in the morning to investigate the occurrences here last night. A magistrate has arrived to examine the case and Victor's future.

Each of us takes our turn, presenting what we know of the occurrences as we saw them unfold. I pass Herr Dirnegg who has been called next. He gives me a subdued greeting. Astrid's specter will be with him always. He blames himself for her rash actions. I do not understand why. None of us could have predicted her response to Elisabeth's death. I wonder if Victor even cares that she is dead by his hand.

A servant showed the Frau the remains of a book in the fireplace. I believe Victor burned his journals.

_Michael_

Once again a tray of food was delivered for me. It is a luxury to have hot food provided for me. Someone has cooked the eggs so the centers are soft and the whites have a crisp brown edge. I like them that way, and make quick work of my breakfast. I set the tray once more next to the door of the room.

One of the servants approaches with an armful of things. I glance at the floor, my hair falling forward, my dark glasses in place. I cringe in anticipation of the screams I expect, but she merely passes by as I stay to one side of the hall.

I still am greatly discomfited by people, but if I am to be with Therese, there will be times when I must forebear their presence. Frau Radmacher appears. "Please join us."

She leads me to a room that is the sort of place that I delight in. There are shelves of books and a desk and leather bound chairs. Herr Dirnegg sits in one, Thomas in his wheelchair, and the Frau sits next to him.

Behind the desk sits a man who I understand is a visiting Magistrate. Before him on the desk are papers.

Sitting near the desk is Victor. He is still an imposing figure, although I can see by his eyes how his actions have finally settled upon him. He does not look at me, but waits until I am in the room and the door is closed.

_Thomas_

Victor and Michael seem equally bound to ignore the presence of the other. Stolid and grim, they look so alike; two men of intelligence who will not bow to the other.

One man has lost the woman he loves while the other has found his. I believe each one saw themselves as flawed. Victor attempted to hide what was inside, while Michael met with Therese in the darkness of the abbey, hoping to hide his exterior.

What happened the night of Michael's birth? A bolt of lightning set into motion a wheel which has made its complete revolution. The creator has now traded places with his creation. From an intelligent man to murderer, Victor now suffers the fate he would have given Michel.

_Victor_

The meeting goes on. I am told that papers will arrive that I will have to sign. It has been agreed that I will not be taken into custody in the village as long as I am cooperative. The truth is I am too valuable as a doctor for anyone to lose. The gift of my intelligence, that set into motion all of this horror, is the very thing that will save my neck.

A Doctor will be found to come and take over the operation of the Sanitarium for me. As such, I will be staying here under his care. The death of Bretelle was blamed on Astrid; her death was due to my state of delirium over my wife's death.

I slept last night under the influence of a drug, but it was one of the first complete nights I have passed without dreams that wake me. I have sawed open skulls, fascinated by the grey lump that is a human brain. I once despaired that I would only know peace if I found the center of that mass that held my memories of the demon's creation and excise it.

I was maddened by my preoccupation with the fiend. The years of restlessness turned me into a phantom that wandered the hallways while other men slept.

_Thomas_

Herr Dirnegg testifies that a number of Doctors would apply for the position at the sanitarium. For all his flaws, Victor _is_ a brilliant man. It is his genius that will attract others to watch over him, and study with him.

He was allowed to stay with the children last night. An orderly stayed by the door in case he decided to escape, but with Michael still here he would not have gotten far.

Although we cannot be sure of his mental state, we know he isn't bound to take his life. Since Michael spoke to him, I think he has something else to concentrate on besides himself.

Victor does have three children to raise. Children who will look at their Father one day and wonder what happened the night their Mother died. Victor will be left to listen to the echoes of that night forever.

The Magistrate brings the meeting to an end. Herr Dirnegg signs papers, and a schedule for a guard to watch over Victor is set. Until someone comes to take over, the authorities will be watching. The Doctor has now become the patient.

_Victor_

I have hated every moment that I am forced into the presence of the demon. But now, in my heart, there is one question of such enormity that I must rely upon him to answer.

I turn to him. They call him Michael, and I wonder why.

"What will it be like?" My voice breaks as I speak.

He takes off the dark glasses and turns those pale yellow eyes at me. Previously they have always seemed blank and searching, but now there is something alive in them.

I ask again. "I wish to know…Elisabeth is not…"

"No," he answers quietly. "She will be happy there Victor. It is warm and bright and there are many others waiting with her."

_Thomas_

My God. I had never given a thought to asking what Michael had seen on the other side of the veil that separates the living from the dead. Therese never spoke of it. Perhaps some heavenly agent warned them that those secrets are to be found by each man who makes the journey.

I leave the study with the Frau's assistance. Michael and Victor stay behind.

_Michael_

I sit in a leather chair in Victor's study; my creator and the man who caused my murderous rage. After our years of struggle, we have left nothing unsaid.

When I found him and challenged him the first time, I remember asking _what_ I was. People shunned me, and I did not understand until I saw my reflection that I was something ugly. As the years progressed I asked him _why_. As I began to remember my wife and her death, I had to ask myself what it was that destroyed the man I was in a fit of rage.

I will never be able to answer that question. The capacity for it or my previous temperament has been expunged by my death. I can only feel saddened for Constanza and Henry Clerval.

I am Michael. And right at this moment I am the man who wants to leave this all behind and join the woman I wish to make my wife. I rise from my chair as Victor casts a nervous eye towards me.

"Our struggle is finished, Victor."

I turn and leave him. This is the only absolution I have in my heart to give him.

_Therese_

It is the 18th of December, and I go to the train station to purchase a ticket for Nantes. I pace for a while. I tire of sitting and turning to examine everyone who walks out onto the platform. With every tick of the clock, my hope wanes. Another day to wait in vain and another night of laying awake and wondering what is happening in Switzerland.

I purchase a cup of hot tea from a vendor, walking carefully with it back to my bench.

"Excuse me, Mademoiselle. Do you think you could assist me with this annoying lump?"

I turn quickly, and the tea sloshes over my fingers. Thomas Wetherden sits grinning like a fool and standing behind the chair is Michael.

"I'm not going to England to suffer your wit am I?" Michael asks.

"My good man, I am appalled! I'll have you know I am renowned for entertaining…"

I set the tea down quickly and silence Thomas with a kiss and brief hug. I then step around him and fling my arms around Michael, who hugs me so hard I despair of having my ribs break. Breathless as I am, I endure it and the deep kiss he gives me.


	23. Home

Chapter Twenty-Three: Home

_Thomas_

It took a few months to settle in. Michael and Therese settled in a separate cottage on my property.

I had a meeting with a local doctor who suggested I take on a visiting nurse for a number of months, just to help with the exercises. She introduced herself as Evelyn Stanhope, and I saw her regularly, until March when we had a freakish snow storm and she had to stay the evening at the house.

While performing an alcohol massage on my leg muscles to relieve some cramping I was experiencing, this mousy little woman with her firm thin lips, business like airs, and spectacled eyes, pushed up the end of my shirt and blushed. Once again, the reliable _English Oak_ had decided to, err, rise to the occasion of her ministrations.

Later in the evening, she brought me a nightcap of Brandy and asked how my legs felt. I replied, "Jolly good," and she pulled aside my sheets to run her hands over my thighs. Predictably, my manhood, once again felt the call to duty. Evelyn went to the door, turning the key, came back to the bed, grasped my glass, and downed my Brandy.

I was rather miffed at that, I do enjoy a good Brandy. To my utter amazement, she loosened her hair, flung her spectacles onto the nightstand, climbed onto the bed and kissed me. Evelyn transformed into a lusty emerald eyed siren before my eyes.

We were married two months later.

* * *

_Postlude: Father Basilone_

I set down my pen and rub my eyes, "I am sorry Madame, I did not realize it was growing so late. Your tale is enchanting."

She smiles indulgently at me. "It is good to tell the story again, Father. I am happy to have the opportunity to set the legend to rights."

"And what of Frankenstein," I ask, "do you know what happened to him?"

"We sent letters to Frau Radmacher until her death. I believe Victor is still working at the sanitarium as a mentor for other doctors." She pauses and drops a lump of sugar into another one of the copious cups of tea we have enjoyed during this discourse. She continues, "I don't think he was ever a happy man. Elisabeth was his only life. But I do know that he became a good teacher."

"And what of Herr Dirnegg?" I ask because I am so curious a fellow.

"He lived another two years. He is buried near Astrid, to watch over her I presume." Therese is looking at me now. "I suppose you will want to see scars to prove all of this?"

I feel the heat rising in my cheeks, "Madame," I begin, but she cuts me off.

She gestures over my shoulder. "Would you like to meet my husband?"

The air in the room changes around me, I realize that we are not alone. Although I have copied her words by rote, I have only done so with a mind that this is more of a folktale. In this instance, I realize fully that it is not.

I stand and turn, behind me near the door is the one of the tallest men I have even seen. His night dark hair is interlaced with grey; his face shows lines of age around the proud scar that crosses it. He looks down on me indulgently, and stretches out a large hand. I take it in my own and see the ring of scars around his wrist.

One thing has changed; his eyes have lost the sheen of the grave. They are a faint brown color. He sees me staring and nods. "That gradually went away," he says in a deep voice.

I try to find my voice, gaping at him. I finally stammer, "It is you. The lightning's child."

"Yes," he agrees. "I was the first of the reanimated." He joins his wife walking past me with a powerful but graceful gait. Taking her hand he says, "And this is my wife. She was the last to be storm born."

"I have so many questions."

He smiles; it is a crooked smile due to the scar that pulls at his lip. "Do you think anyone will believe you if you recount this story?"

"I don't care," I reply. "It is enough to see you, to know for myself that you have survived."

Therese tells me, "We did more than survive, we have thrived together."

"We have five children," he tells me. He holds up a hand, "Yes, they are human in every way, right down to the sicknesses and injuries we nursed them through."

She adds, "And grandchildren as well. We tell them the story."

My brain is spinning with the implications of this: the truth of Frankenstein's genius, the power of the lightning, the depth of this man's loneliness and his quest for his wife. "Were you..."

"Married?" He says. "Yes, we were married at the church in the village, with Thomas and Evelyn Wetherden as our witnesses. We stood in God's house to receive his blessing. After all, didn't the lightning that brought us our lives come as he chose it to?"

"Your wife named you Michael, for the archangel. Where did your last name come from?"

They look at each other and grin. They took the last name of Oakes. Evidently Thomas Wetherden makes a lot of references to _English Oak_. I had not thought him interested in trees.

_Michael_

We smile indulgently. The good Father has no idea that the _oak_ that Thomas refers to is the type that is responsible for our five children. Since returning to Therese I have devoted long hours to making my wife a very happy woman.

Like all other people, we do not know how long the course of our lives will run. We fill our days with the love we have for each other, our friends and our children. Sometimes we sit outside and listen to the storms.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks to all of you who have reviewed and journeyed through this with Therese and Michael. **


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